This poem is taken from PN Review 117, Volume 24 Number 1, September - October 1997.
Five PoemsThe Ice Field
I come down from the dunes
And into the reeds
Where the rhizome of plastic
Works out of the sand,
And waterfowl, on their heads
A curious fire,
Skulk evicted.
Before me lies the icefield of the lake,
Its margin raised
Above the grass. Five yards in
It moans beneath my feet; a fevered child,
And I wait, breath cancelled,
As if I had awoken
In an unfamiliar room.
Slowly, hurting, I kneel down
...
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?
