catapult magazine

Galumph

by Michelle Julianne Gallagher

Your name goes “Galumph!”.
It comes in through the sea-rimmed window
And lands heavily on the desk
Scattering maps and papers.
My chair tips over and I lie on the floor
Examining the planked ceiling.

I wanted to set my course by you,
Lash our hulls, bail our cargo;
But you’re more a wanderer than I.
I know my orders.
All this I consider
While looking through the cracks of the wood plank ceiling.

You’re not alone,
You know,
You’re not alone.
So I send you my love
Like an anchor
With both ends thrown in.