Folk Tale

by David Linklater


Mother, look where I’m at now.

I miss being there, rolling pen on paper

regarding the matter.

The carpet’s out the window threatening to jump.

My shoes are hot and split.

Help me out of this jam, mam.

The days are like derelict

warehouses full of fine art.


Father, must all men work forever?

With all these things that go

the engines give sooner or later.

I never feel fear in the car but when I step out.

Good thinking is done on wide bends

with it all there in front of you.

How many thousands of miles have you thought, dad?

I’ve thought a few on this curve I’m leaning,

catching the heel of the horizon.

David Ross Linklater is originally from the Highlands of Scotland and now lives in Glasgow. He is an MFA candidate at the University of Glasgow is working toward a collection of poetry.

Published by

Alexandra Stanislaw

Alexandra Stanislaw is the Editor-In-Chief and founder of Devise Literary. She is also an Assistant Editor for Hotel Amerika. Her work appears in Crab Fat Magazine ("The Good Friend" and "Tampa Raised You Up"), Ragazine, and Chicago Review of Books.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s