Photo: Andy Galloway

Pam Galloway was born in northern England, but now makes Vancouver her home. Poetry has been her major focus/obsession for a number of years since she moved from being a life-long avid reader to putting her own ideas into words. For a while, Pam worked as part of the poetry group "Quintet" whose joint collection Quintet: Themes and Variations was published by Ekstasis Editions (Victoria, 1998). Pam's poetry is published in Canadian and UK poetry magazines and in the anthology Love in Four Positions (Leaf Press, 2003).

Monday's Poem

© Pam Galloway


When you go
you leave the radio on.
My arms and legs move
over the warmth of your shape.
My body sees you glowing infra-red.

The radio voice is a long way off
and I have followed
where space becomes time,
beyond all that is easily real, I'm drifting
across the blank black skies
astronomers have photographed,
filtered back billions of light years
to images of galaxies forming,
nebulae twitching at the birth of stars.

The astronomers want the Beginning,
sudden flash or slow eruption
that started Life.

Will they deepen and lengthen exposures
to capture Before Life—another blank black expanse
or a drone, a buzz waiting to go off?

I want a photo of our space
not just before you left
when we lay here together
but right back to the start and beyond: before
this bed was made, before its tree was born,
when our love was out there, humming.

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