The Poems of David Garlick
From further up the beach they looked like stranded whales. Closer, I could see their northern pallor’s pinking to the sun. Quivering, hairy bellies and ripe bosoms bursting bikinis. The scent of cheap sun blocks soothing consciences. They almost sizzle, basking in the sun’s violent smile. Hot dogs on concession rollers, waiting for bun […]
My son is not another me. He stands alone to find his place. If he has guts and drive to spare, his niche in life will wait for him. It’s not for me to say which way but only to guide if I am sure. Not sure of what I want for him […]
I have a brother far, far away. With wife and child welded as one. I only wish that we could see more of them now and then. The years have passed so quickly and our paths so seldom cross. That even when we meet to speak the spontaneity that used to be has gone […]
In a graveyard, a crop of headstones had sprung up, shiny black; epitaphs written in white, with perfect plastic flowers faded by the sun. The new head markers stood beside old leaning ones, gray and pockmarked with age, that staggered drunkenly, pathetic. Unkempt, their tributes of long grasses with bowed heads. Remembered people, forgotten. […]