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2 poems by Luke Samuel Yates

  • Editor
  • Mar 1, 2023
  • 1 min read

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.

 
 
 

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