Featuring Gabriel Bates

 

spitting image

while shaving,

I catch a glimpse

of myself

in the bathroom mirror.

the black bags

under my eyes,

the stubble

on my chin,

the gray patch

in my hair,

the distant expression

on my face—

it all reminds me

too much

of my father,

so I look away

and go back

to rinsing off

the razor.

just my luck

a couple of

my kitchen appliances

stopped working

recently.

but I'm broke,

and I don't see that

changing

anytime soon.

so now what?

I don't know.

all I do know

is that the universe

has a funny way

of kicking me

when I'm already down.

Gabriel Bates is a poet living in Tiffin, Ohio. His work has appeared in several publications, online and in print. Keep up with him at gabrieljbates.blogspot.com.

Update: 17 December 2022 More Poems

smoke break

a constant trail

of pollution

coming from the factory

snakes its way

across the winter sky.

I try to enjoy a cigarette

and some hot coffee

because my masters

have allowed me

15 minutes of rest,

although it's never enough.

but what

am I saying?

there's not a thing

in this world

that's ever enough.

like a satellite

sometimes

I wish I could

just leave

the planet.

I'm not suicidal

though.

all I'm saying is,

a vacation

would be nice.

you know,

a break

from the bullshit.

I can see it already—

there I am,

floating in the black void

of outer space

with a dumb smile

on my face,

finally alone.

days like this

a sink

full of dirty dishes,

an overflowing

trash can,

a litter box

that reeks

of piss and shit,

toys scattered

all over the place,

and two screaming kids.

it's almost enough

to make me wish

I was still at work

instead of being home

right now.

background noise

the water heater

hisses,

the fridge

hums,

the furnace

roars,

the music box

repeats its sleepy tune,

and the TV

drones on and on.

I can't remember

the last time

it was silent,

inside or outside

of my head.