Angela Stubbs’ Poetry

Apr 10, 2017 by

Angela Stubbs’ Poetry

 

Feedback of Desire

 
I want to crack
an egg on your ass,
fix your chipped nail
polish, read those poems
you never finished,
even the ones that aren’t
about me. See, I’m not
selfish. I can be vulnerable,
just don’t get up and go.
 
Like, we could
have three dogs in case one
dies in the future and we won’t
be lonely or I won’t
because you might
leave me. I don’t
blame you for downgrading,
for simplicity.
 
At this age, I really should
have it together. When I walk
the neighborhood, I
think the flowers smell
like a metaphor for something.

 

 

I Sent You A Telepathic Message, Did You Get It?

 
we tried to tell each other
I’m afraid of this desire
it gets worse every time I see you
 
hopeful for what I wonder
because your tongue in my mouth
means we’re progressing towards a goal
 
I heart writing poems to you
even though fucking in poems is good
sometimes my heart is involved
 
which makes fucking beautiful
in the moonlight there is silence
the strewn manuscript of you
 

Angela Stubbs is a poet examining the body and states of being while celebrating the carnal with sweet, dark humor.

 

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