poet

John Gallaher

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John Gallaher
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John Gallaher is the author of Brand New Spacesuit, forthcoming from BOA Editions in 2020, Map of the Folded World (University of Akron Press, 2009) and The Little Book of Guesses (Four Way Books, 2007), which won the Levis Poetry Prize. He is an associate professor of English at Northwest Missouri State University and coeditor of The Laurel Review.

by this poet

poem
There is a man, there is a woman,
and there is a child. 

Their faces too plain,
their mouths too wide.

It's a grim business.  You can feel it piling up
however quiet you refuse to be.

Watch them.

They woke up one morning
and their hands were all rubber.

"How can you hold me?"
they asked.
"How can I feel you
poem
     My neighbor to the left had a stroke a couple years ago. It didn’t look 
     like he was going to make it, and then he made it. I’m watching him 
     now from my window as he makes his slow way across his yard 
2
poem
I’ll make you up from out 
of the living rooms we face, 
equal parts singing gate 

and people we knew once,  
in biographical order.  Equal lengths 

investiture, and the sun came out 
and it was bright in my eyes.  

The room is dark behind 
the flaring particles.  The day 
is twenty years ago 

and Tuesday.