Damon Hubbs

We leave to get cigarettes somewhere in Wyeth country
I shouldn’t be driving and you’re singing along
to a song of the badly loved
The clouds like curtains of blown wheat
and the guy at the Wawa
talking about egg yolks
and mysticism. Our life
is all grounded and rooted in love
and it’s true
it’s a great piece of turf

each blade inlaid like a Cosmati floor
and I know when I arrive
at the vanishing point of the afternoon,
tapping our pack of Winstons
like the first dance at a wedding party,
you’ll tell me you saw three hares
running in the meadow by the vintner’s house
and I’ll stand with what’s there
as ecstatically as the earth
colliding with the sun.

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 Farewell Transmission, Apocalypse Confidential, Don’t Submit!, The Gorko Gazette, Horror Sleaze Trash, andothers. His poems have been nominated for the Pushcart and Best of the Net.