Poetry: Selections from Gabriel Bates

Short and Sweet

When I write a poem,

I like to get

straight to the point.

There's just no time

to fuck around.

Because if I don't

get it down right away,

then I might end up

taking it to the grave.

It Was Over Before It Even Started

The first ape

to learn how to

use a rock

as a weapon

must've felt like

the biggest thing

in the universe.

But God,

looking down

at that moment,

probably flipped out

when he realized that

his own grand plan

just went to shit.

I'm Just Not Like Other People

I don't make small talk

about the weather

or anything like that.

I have no interest

in football teams

or celebrity scandals.

I'm not on

the latest social media apps,

and I sure as hell

don't concern myself

with whatever nonsense

is trending right now.

But I have something

that they don't.

It's a fire

burning in my gut,

something that needs

to be said,

something that'll stick around

when I'm gone for good.

Because I don't

want to die

without leaving

something behind.

I want to smolder

for a little while

after my flame

has gone out.

A Modern-Day Romance

We met online

and fell for each other

almost instantly.

Everyone said

we were crazy,

but we both knew that

what we felt was real.

So I headed to Ohio

to be with you in real life,

not just digitally.

After a few days

of driving,

I was right down the road

from your house.

And I only had one question

on my mind—

will you still love me

when my phone turns off,

and I'm standing

on your doorstep?

The Art of Dissection

My poems are bodies,

and I'm the surgeon

trying to cut around

the fat and gristle

so I can get down

to the fucking bone.

The Commute

I used to walk to work

every morning,

and I'd pass by

this old apartment building

on the way.

Some tomcat lived there,

and he'd watch me

from his perch

on one of the windowsills.

He was gray and white,

obviously well-fed,

and still pretty young.

But he had

the saddest look in his eyes,

almost like he knew

where I was going

and that there was nothing

he could do to save me.

So all he'd offer

was that gaze of pity

through a dirty window

while I made my way

to the factory.

Gabriel Bates is a poet living in Tiffin, Ohio. His work has appeared in several publications, online and in print.