This poem is taken from PN Review 156, Volume 30 Number 4, March - April 2004.
Whole Words(For Rebecca)
Another mute bites down, a new mutation
Roots out its own tongue. We blank such losses
As `friendly fire'. The language we shared round
With such imperial fairness, keeping only
What was ours, can't not be ours. But now it can't be ours.
We asked to be a voice, even a footnote
To February, a true note. That we drowned
In our own throats perhaps should not amaze us,
...
The page you have requested is restricted to subscribers only. Please enter your username and password and click on 'Continue'.
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 285 issues containing over 11,500 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 285 issues containing over 11,500 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
