Reading the pale porpoise again
you are the portrait of a lady.
Yes, living here would fix me
and the miraculous, sweet fruit of your bath
has me leaning on the orchard ladder
picking apples from your spine.
Where did we meet, I can’t recall
on an island’s edge or basement bar
in the employ of a German viscountess
as tutor and governess
or was it where angels dress like policemen
and the concierges are all named Paul.
I guess I’m serious when I say
does it really rain
in every Tarkovsky film.
There’s no mistaking mirrors
and my ability to be awed,
which reminds me of that roadside picnic
when we lost our knapsack, too
when your question mark physique
was interrupted by tall bare trees
with formal handshakes
and there’s more time behind us
than there is ahead of us, face to face
with swanny rivers that do not flow
anew.

…

Damon Hubbs is the poetry editor at Blood+Honey and The Argyle Magazine. He’s the author of the full-length collection Venus at the Arms Fair (Alien Buddha Press, 2024). Recent publications include Hobart, Apocalypse Confidential, The Disappointed Housewife, BRUISER, A Thin Slice of Anxiety,Horror Sleaze Trash, and others. He lives in New England.