In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

Prairie Schooner 77.3 (2003) 167



[Access article in PDF]

After Yeats

Don Welch


Coole Park, Ireland

As the heads of the grasses
bent themselves in prayer,
the wind whispered rooms
only swans were used to.

There, where the sun riddled
our fingers and opposable thumbs,
the swans circled above us
in their tockless clocks,

and we could only send them
petitions of a single wing,
half a prayer, our palms
liftless, full of measly air.



 

Don Welch is a retired professor of English and philosophy at the University of Nebraska, Kearney. His most recent book is The Alley Poems (Lone Willow P, 2002).

...

pdf

Share