A review of Rachel Galvin's Pulleys & Locomotion in The Pedestal Magazine
Trains Pass, Close But Invisible
But isn’t concealment half of beauty?
The air’s tremble as it ungloves
each finger, sets strands
of web to glint. The uplift of cedars,
free of gravitas, their vault
and nave unencumbered
by the unfinished business of the soul,
its shivering coastlines.
Nearby aspens ring their yellow bells,
hungry, uncertain how to spend their days.
But this may be a failure of the eye,
vertex of nerve sewn to world.
The yellow rustle may not be bells,
but a roomful of readers
turning pages of newspaper.