Hotpot
Tom is tidal.
He had too much broth.
The hotpot came with free top-ups
and Tom finished it off.
He can’t drive his car
because of the moon.
He can tell the time
without a clock.
He’s swallowing the rivers,
he couldn’t be stopped.
Maybe we didn’t try hard enough.
Now the mountains are dessert
and yet everything else
carries on going.
The world
diminishes.
I cycle home
past the cranes
sleeping on their feet.
The lights change
on an empty crossing.
Owls
I needed to contextualise owls
so I found a picture containing
a variety of animals among which
owls were included. The forest was full
of these soft, observant beings.
_________________
Luke Samuel Yates has pamphlets with The Rialto (The Pair of Scissors that Could Cut Anything) and Smith-Doorstop (The Flemish Primitives, a winner of the 2014/15 Poetry Business Book and Pamphlet Prize). You can find his first collection, Dynamo, here.
Comments