Jack Galmitz

The drama

of a sheet of ice
breaking from its body
and sliding off the roof
shattering like glass
on the Madonna and the steps.
I am a pack horse
carrying heavy parts
of the past that have broken off
from the body of years back
so heavy that I fall and lay
on the street and pant.
No one tries to help me up
or bring me water cupped in their hands.
Men trickle by and comment
on the scattered bags around
my bowed back and how they'll
find another horse to carry on.

I'm in a cage.

The walls are cement.
The floors are cement.
I'm tethered by a chain.
I don't know how long
I've been here; it's always
the same. I don't know
the hour or the day.
I'm rarely fed. I can see
the bones show through my skin.
Sometimes people pass,
but no one looks in.
I get the feeling I've been here forever
and this is what forever is.

Jack Galmitz was born when the world was black and white. He's lived long enough to see it come full circle.
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