Some Other City We Could Travel To
|November 26, 2010|
by John Gallaher
This is a covered wagon. This,
Mother is worried.
When we made it to the next century
we decided to let it
blow our hair around
So we’re walking forward all that way,
dusty and November.
A spectacular dust
whichever way you look. A day
of black and purple clouds. Smoke clouds.
Mother is worried. Gold grass.
Each sequence you fold into
is bordered by “and then.”
From this moment on
I’ve decided to call it dancing.
I’m chasing a balloon across a field.
I am lucky and happiness,
back and forth.
I could love everyone right now.
About the Author:
John Gallaher is the author of the books of poetry, Gentlemen in Turbans, Ladies in Cauls, The Little Book of Guesses, winner of the Levis Poetry Prize, from Four Way Books, and Map of the Folded World, from The University of Akron Press, as well as the free online chapbook, Guidebook from Blue Hour Press. Other than that, he’s co-editor of The Laurel Review and GreenTower Press. Currently he’s working on a co-authored manuscript with the poet G.C. Waldrep, titled Your Father on the Train of Ghosts, due out in Spring 2011 from BOA Editions.
Not long ago, my husband was working on a plaster sculpture, and when he removed his rubber gloves, he saw that his gold ring had disappeared. I came to pick my husband up at his studio and discovered him pale, bleary-eyed, babbling. I found the ring, camouflaged on a patch of beige carpet, and my husband cried with relief.
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