YOU CAN AND YOU CAN’T
You can bear a lot, but sometimes you can’t talk about it.
My mother was like that.
She kept things on an even keel, smiled,
worked extra shifts on sore feet,
When she had to talk, she would at times give in and cry.
As a youngster I found that difficult to grasp. Discomforting.
It seemed an oddity of hers.
Now, in the ordinary present, in the array of passing days,
it’s still unsettling to recall, but I know.
LATE IN THE DAY
A breeze passes leaves descend
like flights of sparrows come to feed
Sunlight bending over them
Gary Galsworth, from the New York City area, spent three years in the Marines before studying at the Art Institute of Chicago and University of Chicago. His work has been featured in Pennsylvania English, Temenos, and Broad River Review, and others. He’s published two books of poems and lives in Hoboken, NJ.