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  • Gary Hunter

A Nick Stone Poem - Jan. 20, 2023

he doesn’t read them

he’s in them smells them

hears and feels them

lives them


the way he chokes up

with the sailor’s goodbye kiss

shudders as a tempest

rocks and bashes the boat

nearly loses it as it sinks

taking good family men

into the sea’s abyss


I’ve seen him wipe a nearly

formed tear when he mentions

the widows and children left behind


destined to look out a window

every day for the rest of their lives

and search the watery graveyard

for something impossible


for that face in the surf

smiling waving

swimming to shore

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