Anne Pennington

A poem by Vasko Popa

Until her last breath she enlarges
Her Oxford house
Built in Slavonic
Vowels and consonants

She polishes the corner-stones
Until their Anglo-Saxon shine
Begins to sing

Her death is like a short breath-stop
Under the distant limetrees of her friends

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'Anne Pennington' by Vasko Popa

comments powered by Disqus