About this poet

David Welch is the author of Everyone Who Is Dead (Spork Press, 2018) and It Is Such a Good Thing to Be in Love with You (GreenTower Press, 2015). He lives in Chicago.

I Doubt They Would Notice the Mustachioed Man's Wife

                                       —John Ashbery

How you carry yourself in
the train station says a lot
about the Constitution     what  
it lets you experience in
the eyes of the engineers
and how one day you may
believe it necessary to board
the express out of town
you tell no one     and in this
you take your freedom
you take a cold sandwich
from the thin man pushing
his cart down the aisle     outside
the trees impress the darkness
of the train as you pass
into the middle of America
so much change rattles
around in your head you know
you cannot sleep     you
know sleep is for those
on slower land     around their heads 
it is morning     the alarms
have yet to sound     this pleases
you     the trains are moving swiftly 
at their destinations

Copyright © 2018 by David Welch. Used with the permission of the author. This poem originally appeared in Quarterly West Issue 94.

 

Copyright © 2018 by David Welch. Used with the permission of the author. This poem originally appeared in Quarterly West Issue 94.

 

David Welch

David Welch is the author of Everyone Who Is Dead (Spork Press, 2018) and It Is Such a Good Thing to Be in Love with You (GreenTower Press, 2015). He lives in Chicago.

by this poet

poem

The audience saw the boy in the distance

discussing what they did not know,

as if entering into the boat at his feet

might take him somewhere soft, a ladle

of milk cooling into an empty glass,

a cloth carrying lakewater off of an oar

to be wrung back into the dark

body of

poem

This wasn’t the first time or the last,
wasn’t the first time we thought of stone or the sparked and flushed light.

The flood was an afterthought of the river and the river of a greater crime.

This was when names arrived through a polish

poem

                                       When we first found him,
he was a poor creature who couldn't handle a paring knife,
             but that year in Tuscany did him well.

                                       He returned a devout palate.

A man of peculiar desire.
             Please