THREE POEMS by DAMON HUBBS
Seven Lines & One from Catullus
You’re impressed with the Prada knockoffs
I suckle gelato from the she-wolf & mind the storm
maybe we should have gone to California
someplace where love is less gladiatorial
someplace where I don’t carry slender arrows & a sword like Caravaggio.
He cut a hole in the sky to let in more light to paint, as if to say
give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred.
Our navels have grown too big for that.
Breakup Song, You're Too Kind
in the fad churn of my Mega Records dreams
your low-rise jeans are renaissance our days like FRUits Magazines
bubbly in Diesel Stylelab in my Mega Records dreams
i call you Josie & you say m’kay Pussycat
our winking futurism hyped like Missy Elliot but now
you’re blowin’ up my pager & my left eye’s like a waterfall
you say the error is coded into me
your name tee says you’re too kind i knew you were
only pretending to be nice, hope you got that shirt on half price
me, I’ve got my boyband body armor on besides
your Baby Phat was never all that
your Bath & Body Works just a siren song
for blobjects spun from circle jerks
delirium Astronauts
under the firmament, we divide the waters
& add a day to the earth’s rotation. It’s love at first sight
or theia mania. Skyward we command the ship
write love letters in which every word is yes
our fingertips are crackling stars
& like John Donne we wear hats as big as continents.
We tilt & kick in apogee, levitate like birds in circuitry
write love letters in which every word is yes
we are stark blue nudes hot Saturns masters of revels
commanding the ship til the sky spits the nipple
til hysteria where did you go, my darling—
my atoms belong to you
Damon Hubbs writes poems about Thulsa Doom, Italo disco, & girls who cry at airports. He's the author of three chapbooks (most recently “Charm of Difference," from Back Room Poetry). Newer work appears/is forthcoming in BRUISER, Don't Submit!, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, A Thin Slice of Anxiety, Riggwelter Press, & elsewhere. Twitter @damon_hubbs.