They say he killed Jill’s canary
but I like it when shit gets weird.
Remember when we lived through the apocalypse
at Cabaloosa, the lavish robes of cocaine
and the queen in her jubilation —I had the hiccups
for days. And Steff, what a gentleman
taking polaroids of people’s feet before he staged
a coup
they say he killed Jill’s canary
and spends Friday nights dethroning gods.
I can’t resist a run-and-gun Contra
and the taste of Michelob.
My love for the inauthentic
has me chopping off my hair.
Darling, let’s take the ferry to Cherry Grove
and eat our hearts out
my yellow shoes are killing me.
Far be it from me to complain
about a canary. I call you Midas
although your name is Jim. Oh, hold your tongue
pretty please —I’m beyond resistance.
Show me what you love
now that the waves lap like a rabbit’s foot.
— Damon Hubbs is a poet from New England. He’s the author of three chapbooks and a full-length collection, Venus at the Arms Fair (Alien Buddha Press, 2024). Recent publications include A Thin Slice of Anxiety, Spectra, Suburban Witchcraft Magazine, Don’t Submit!, Horror Sleaze Trash, and others. His poems have been nominated for the Pushcart and Best of the Net. Twitter @damon_hubbs