PN Review Print and Online Poetry Magazine
Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
Mark FordLetters And So It Goes
Letters from Young Mr Grace
(aka John Ashbery)

(PN Review 239)
Henry Kingon Toby Martinez de las Rivas
(PN Review 244)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Tim Parksin conversation with Natalia Ginzburg
(PN Review 49)
Next Issue Colm Toibin on Thom Gunn's Letters Allice Hiller and Sasha Dugdale in conversation David Herman on the life of Edward W. Said Jena Schmitt o'sn Hope Mirrlees Brian Morton: Now the Trees
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PNR 250 Poetry Archive Banner
PN Review New Issue

This poem is taken from PN Review 228, Volume 42 Number 4, March - April 2016.

Peak District Vidyan Ravinthiran
‘The young lambs bound / As to the tabour’s sound’.

They toss and toss: it is as if it were the earth that flung them, not themselves.
It is the pitch of graceful agility when we think that.
                                                                          – Gerard Manley Hopkins

The lambs wear fuchsia digits
wisps of torn cloud

hang from the bossy
roots of hugging beeches
planted close to meld into one bole;

also the wire

whose barbs rust first, drop out and leave
inches of clear air

where harm should be . . . 


Why are we here? To flee
our inboxes
stuffed with silence

or rejections; to peer,
half-cut, down a blue road,
phone aloft, hunting for pockets of signal . . . 

Searching, please wait... animated waiting image