Old Men In The Dark Poem by Jack Galmitz

When it gets very bright
like a flashbulb going off
in your face at a wedding in the night
old men see the pages of a black book that reproduces
black paintings. While the father of the bride
dances with his daughter, an old man
can see Saturn devouring his children-
the head already gone, the neck exposed, tendons
bleeding. It is not time that ravages -
jealousy, the generations divide, the
refusal to relinquish obsequity from others.
At each table the guests sit satisfied,
stuffed with guts and gravy their stomachs
bulging, each tapping the swelling like an exotic blossom;
the men smoke cigars, blow smoke rings to warn
their wives and children of impending murder and
the ripping of incisors - what else are they for?
The young offspring, dressed like their parents,
enjoy this moment, the band's music, the alcohol
induced clamor, the sweat of the photographer trying
to gather groups together - and especially those knots
of men in the dim light discussing business, their future,
the future of their children. The children are pleased
to see their fathers with the wave of a hand
bring a grown man over to serve him.
They are learning what it will take
once they become Saturn.