As if being tuned in,
continuously sharpening
but never still,
in hectic motion.
The grass between them
in two tones –
garlic scape and park bench –
vibrating in optical illusion.
Up close,
delicate
but not closed
as they could be
in a wind
that knocked the hats from our heads.
Overhead, the power lines crackle
suspended between massive electrical towers
but impossibly, do not fall.
At the base of one,
young men prepare to film
a four-piece band,
cameras strapped to their torsos
and hanging over their heads like baby animals.
The top half of the moon
suspended in a pale blue sky.
The air trembles with sparks.
The flowers shake without bruising or tearing,
unfold from footsteps
and receive the electricity of bees.
-Elizabeth Galoozis
Elizabeth Galoozis is a poet and librarian living in Los Angeles. Her poetry has been published in Faultline, Sinister Wisdom, Mantis, and Not Very Quiet. Her poem “The Grove” was a finalist for the Inverted Syntax Sublingua Prize for Poetry. Her scholarly work has been published in The Library Quarterly, College & Research Libraries, and ACRL Press. https://sites.google.com/view/elizabethgaloozis/