Poetry from Jack Galmitz


Steve was energy. No denying it.
There it is in the photograph
taken in his backyard; the mouth
is tense as speaking consonants
without vowels is his arms are sharp 
and his torso turns
to attend or demonstrate 
stilled now by the shutter's click. 
There is motion blurring
tending to the barbecue he is
charged as a downed wire in a down
pour. His guests sip Genesee
beers gripped by the necks and chat
of texts and signs and the many