This poem is taken from PN Review 152, Volume 29 Number 6, July - August 2003.
Three PoemsLace Swans
In a glass case in Country Antrim
her children sit, four lace swans.
She whispers what she should have said,
they should have sailed on fine spun silk.
Blond and black boned, thread trawl,
Minonet, Hanover lace,
the quartet, moored in her memory.
They should have sailed on sheer satins.
Laces worn on different occasions,
Carrickmacross guipure, play time, games,
Carrickmacross appliqué, opera, Sunday wear.
They should have sailed on calico.
The world overflowing with babies,
bundles of Irish lace their cries aren't crochet
or lean white damask.
...
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 282 issues containing over 11,400 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 282 issues containing over 11,400 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
