top of page

"Debts and Carrots" by Kenton K. Yee

  • Nov 20, 2023
  • 1 min read

Updated: Apr 7, 2025

I resisted form: drove a mile at 3 am to Safeway for one carrot, bought cheese instead. The cashier asked how I was, as if I were fine. Back in the office, shuffling numbers that wouldn’t add up, I dozed off on a raft hitched to three big mouth trout that wouldn’t swim, like I couldn’t swim, so of course my grip slipped and I’m back to snack wraps that were black cat bad. Accounting taught me people don’t count. I remember a riverbed too replete to sleep on, a big mouth trout picked clean, and three clouds looking like a flock of unshorn sheep.




Kenton K. Yee’s recent poems appear (or will soon) in Plume Poetry, Threepenny Review, TAB Journal, I-70 Review, Hawaii Pacific Review, Terrain.org, Mantis, Sugar House Review, Constellations, Valparaiso Poetry Review, and Rattle, among others. Kenton holds a PhD from UCLA and law and business degrees from Stanford. He writes from Northern California.


See Yee's other poem published in The Broadkill Review when it goes live on July 1 2025.

Recent Posts

See All
"A Love Story" by Natalie Marino

While on an evening walk, we see two dogs mating in an abandoned lot full of tall grass. Holding your hand in mine I look up at the moon looking like a coin caught between two cypress trees. I wonder

 
 
"Grass Grows Over A Daisy Petal" by Paul Potts

beyond the trees as far as i can see there’s a small duck i’ve been waiting for. i tell the duck my name, who i am. it probably doesn’t remember, but that’s fine. i remind myself that when you find an

 
 
"pit hymnal" by Klara Pokrzywa

Star of this soreness I laugh myself awake, sling deep into the heave. Straight out of dirt road walking and at capacity—this being the back-alley way; the heartbreak; the running away constantly. Int

 
 
bottom of page