Current
Issue
Fall 2026 / Volume 13.1
John Gallaher
—
Afternoon with the Change Agents
I was in a protest march once, under trees, and I found myself
between Jesse Jackson and Martin Sheen. There we were,
the three Musketeers. I’m sure they remembered it the same way.
The march flashes and blinks out across Ohio,
but it was a good idea, which is the usual economy of marches.
You put this telescope and microscope together
and watch an amoeba eat the galaxy, singing “Jesse, Martin,
and John.” It’s what each of these things comes back to, though it isn’t really
a thing, more like concept, whipping around this fence, which you can’t see,
and only know it’s there because of all this stuff that’s flying at you.
All that’s vermillion must also fade, and it’s important to feel
you’re helping. That you’re holding this precious thing. One
brings a hammer. One, an idea. And one is there because of this cute person
who said they were going, and so you’re all, “Yeah, I’m going too!”
*
How many times am I going to be circling this tree
finding only tree? There’s so much more we can wrap with these yellow ribbons,
in the arrivals way and the departures way. How do we test it,
if not by arriving and departing? The word “ribbon” comes from a word
meaning band, which comes from a word no one agrees on.
This is also true of rivers. Someone drops their sign, someone
picks it up. I’m holding out hope for chocolate. And maybe a second date,
if this is considered a first date. Maybe a coffee shop next. They’ll ask me
my name, and I’ll say “I am Spartacus.” And everyone will stand and say they
are Spartacus, and the barista won’t know who to give the cup to.
I wish I was more. Do you wish you were more? More everything.
You can hold the hammer and still need to be held. The important thing
is that you show up. I think. Or I tell myself. Like I tell myself I’ve learned
to be more courageous. I’ve started doing crosswords in ink.
John Gallaher's most recent book is My Life in Brutalist Architecture, a poem-memoir on adoption. His eighth collection, Radio Good Luck, will be out in 2028 from Four Way Books, along with a chapbook, HINGE in 2026, from Sixth Finch. Gallaher has also edited two collections, with poems appearing in American Poetry Review, Poetry, New England Review, Colorado Review, The Best American Poetry, among others. Gallaher lives in northwest Missouri and co-edits the Laurel Review.
