Two Poems by Amber Galeo 





Glove of stigmata at the red center of you.

             Against the farm fence, a shepherd

            Herds a rabble of wool


Where I cannot find 

              Or hear you. Right ear ruin of opaque origin

            Stills our runnel of cold phonics. 


Don’t you know I could love you

             Brutally; glass slivering a sky

           Under which we could be


Devotional as a bible if only

              You believed, if only we were animals,

            If only you knew this was my dominion.



B A S S I N E T 


More among the watchers 
Than the livers is the truss 

Of boats moored and tied 
Like a holiday roast

A swaying torso with 
Slab ribs so hardwearing 

Even a salty sea marinade 
Can’t mar the fibers. 

There is too much wait in wading 
And so much neglect in living 

Like we are not on the verge
Of something extraordinary.