Even with the bats,
and the fleas,
and the assorted film crew,
the baboons rest well.

Lord knows what a sleepless night
would look like.

The wind blows—
not with its lips
but its fists.






Marcel, you’re finished.
You’ve done clowning
for the week.

So take off that
stupid balloon hat.

I don’t care what
kind of ambassador
you think you are—

take it off.
Or I will take it off
for you. Jesus!

I could use a hit
of laughing gas
right about now.






The polar bear must be put down
but the fleas now survive the winter.

Eve is going bald.
Adam is growing breasts.

Just ask God.

And just imagine his feelings
when he found out
there is no hereafter, etc.


the only thing that doesn’t break down,
that doesn’t rub off,
is the glitter under my eyes.





Luxury Bespoke Aquaria

Wearing a scarlet ‘A’
for alcoholism,
for Alzheimer’s,
for acquired immune deficiency syndrome—

you tested positive
for cocaine,
and Flintstones chewable multivitamins.

Politics is an ego trip,
but also a death trap.  





[James Dufficy's poem 'The Invaders' won the Ambit Summer Poetry Competition 2018, judged by George Szirtes. Other poems have appeared in Blackbox Manifold, The Gay & Lesbian Review, and Stand. Stories in the Ham Free Press and Microfiction Monday Magazine.]

Copyright © 2018 by James Dufficy, all rights reserved. This text may be used and shared in accordance with the fair-use provisions of Copyright law. Archiving, redistribution, or republication of this text on other terms, in any medium, requires the notification of the journal and consent of the author.