Thursday, November 19, 2020

King Billy by Damian Ward Hey

King Billy sat

on his throne

at the far end of the bar,

drinking.


We never 

saw him

get up

to piss.


Night

and day,

he sat there.

Never left.


We drank 
our ale,
but not with him.
He drank alone.

We wondered 

at his bladder.

Was there a can?

Where did it all go?


Frank said, “A tube

goes from his pants

into the ground.

He feeds the earth with urine.”


“Yeah?” we said.

“Yeah,” said Frankie.

“And he’s immortal, too.

It’s why he never leaves.”


“Go on,” we said.

“See, he’s always been here.

Since before the dinosaurs.

They built the bar around him.

And he’ll  be here long after we’ve gone.”


“To King Billy,” we said,

and drank a toast.

Eventually, we left the bar

and got on with our lives.


And to this day, when we drive by,

we see King Billy in the window

sitting on his throne, 

at the far end of the bar,

drinking.





Damian Ward Hey has had poetry published in several places, including Poetry Pacific, Truck, and Cricket Online Review. More recently, his work has appeared in Madness Muse Press, and Formidable Woman Sanctuary. His poems will appear in The Alien Buddha Press’ upcoming conspiracy anthology as well as Melanie Simms’ anthology, Poets with Masks On. He lives on Long Island and is a professor of literature and theory at Molloy College.





1 comment:

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