Posted by: shorelineclusterpoets | November 22, 2010

Found poem: Mmm… yams

 

How about this tasty treat about a Thanksgiving staple: the yam….

Yam

by Bruce Guernsey

 

The potato that ate all its carrots,
can see in the dark like a mole,
its eyes the scars
from centuries of shovels, tines.
May spelled backwards
because it hates the light,
pawing its way, padding along,
there in the catacombs.

Poem copyright ©2008 by Bruce Guernsey. Reprinted from New England Primer by Bruce Guernsey, Cherry Grove Collections, 2008, by permission of Bruce Guernsey and the publisher.

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