Friend
Donated one keg of beer
& they can take Davo out on the longboat
one last roll through the surf.
A halo of surfboards
the seagulls are wreaths.
Davo must have taught 200 grommets
to read, to breathe the spume.
The smokes tripped him up, he’d laugh
cigarette ashes to ashes
& now he’s been packed up
into a typically no-bullshit shoebox.
There was a family, career.
Growing old seems much about shedding.
He got to pick out the bench
which would have his memorial plaque.
There’ll be a joke on it.
There is someone in his block
who will never forget that right kindness at
the most-right time.
As oars rise in homage
a few tourists gawp from the shore.
What remains of a man is in no hurry —
beyond the cluttered air
cinders nonchalantly settle on the seabed.
What Do We Want
Streets were full of coordinated rage.
From his footpath stroller
a very small person pointed them out
angry people with flags.
No one wanted to play.
This river was thirsty.
police horses lapped at the banks.
Blares from the light bars of police landcruisers
can’t overwhelm the multicoloured glow of the crowd
that somehow is simultaneously black & white.
I don’t like it
that small voice joins the certainty.
The mother can’t explain. Who can?
Trial Reconciliation
A man has come back home
the lawn is a mess.
There was a ragged joke
pipe & slippers he once cooked
was torn between ridicule & adoration.
Always tidy, all those lives
annotated then locked away. Everyone’s benefit really.
He won’t talk about the last month
couch surfing at Larry’s.
There is so much news sure
rang the kids regular but…
A memory surfaces, 1997. Blink, it’s gone.
Does this work? A question
both parents are too busy… that stuff
just isn’t a thing.
When all is said & done.
His kids watch the interplay intently, will not interrupt
this fake, flawless compromise.
Author’s Bionote:
*Les
Wicks: For over 50 years Les has been active in the Australian
literary community. He has been a guest
at most of his nation’s literary festivals alongside a substantial list of
international ones. 2024 Boao International Lifetime Achievement Award, 2025
Silk Road Oceanian Poet of the Year. Publication has been seen in over 500 different
newspapers, anthologies and magazines across 42 countries in 19 languages. Has
conducted workshops around Australia, edited various projects over the decades,
latest being “Class” (2024) & runs Meuse Press which focuses on poetry
outreach projects like poetry on buses & poetry published on the surface of
a river. 15th book of poetry is “Time Taken – New & Selected” (Puncher & Wattmann, 2022, 2nd ed 2024).
& they can take Davo out on the longboat
one last roll through the surf.
the seagulls are wreaths.
Davo must have taught 200 grommets
to read, to breathe the spume.
cigarette ashes to ashes
& now he’s been packed up
into a typically no-bullshit shoebox.
Growing old seems much about shedding.
He got to pick out the bench
which would have his memorial plaque.
There’ll be a joke on it.
who will never forget that right kindness at
the most-right time.
a few tourists gawp from the shore.
What remains of a man is in no hurry —
beyond the cluttered air
cinders nonchalantly settle on the seabed.
What Do We Want
From his footpath stroller
a very small person pointed them out
angry people with flags.
This river was thirsty.
police horses lapped at the banks.
Blares from the light bars of police landcruisers
can’t overwhelm the multicoloured glow of the crowd
that somehow is simultaneously black & white.
that small voice joins the certainty.
The mother can’t explain. Who can?
the lawn is a mess.
There was a ragged joke
pipe & slippers he once cooked
was torn between ridicule & adoration.
annotated then locked away. Everyone’s benefit really.
He won’t talk about the last month
couch surfing at Larry’s.
rang the kids regular but…
A memory surfaces, 1997. Blink, it’s gone.
both parents are too busy… that stuff
just isn’t a thing.
His kids watch the interplay intently, will not interrupt
this fake, flawless compromise.