Katherine Gallagher Poems
|12.||For Julien At Six Weeks||5/5/2012|
|13.||Getting The Electricity On||5/5/2012|
|15.||After Kandinsky: Yellow, Red, Blue (1925)||5/5/2012|
|16.||Kathe Kollwitz 'The Face Of War'||5/5/2012|
|19.||After Kandinsky: Blue Painting (1924)||5/5/2012|
|21.||Thinking Of My Mother On The Anniversary Of Her Death||5/5/2012|
|22.||The Last War||5/5/2012|
Comments about Katherine Gallagher
The Last War
There was only one war, and it was finishing
any day soon. Ears keyed to the wireless,
we waited. Then the news: Japan bombed,
gigantic clouds curling, skies burnt scarlet —
total destruction . . .
We’ve won, we’ve won, a conga-chant
round the schoolground, beating tins, sticks:
our teacher joining in — flags, jumbled cries —
uncles and cousins coming back. The war over.
Hiroshima, Nagasaki — ghost towns now.
Over two hundred thousand people
ghosts too. We couldn’t imagine it.
The bomb entered our conversation,
a stranger who refused to ...
That day Uncle Tom was a hero.
Mostly he was unpopular just for
living with us in the old family home —
taking up space, thinking it was his.
Occasionally he and Dad, bush-boxers,
had bloody fist-fights. But I worshipped him,
would tell my sister, “Tom’s my Dad,
Daddy’s your Dad.” The grown-ups laughed.