Third Poem For The Stapler

Poem By Anna Moriarty Lev

The stapler teases me
as i sit at this desk.
he asks me, blankly,
mouth hanging open,
'what are you doing? '
i expect heavy breathing
to issue from the space
between his upper lip and lower jaw.
my hand twitches to grab him, squeeze him shut,
- resistance.
the more days i don't think
don't think
don't think
don't think about...

Comments about Third Poem For The Stapler

Not bad at all. Light-hearted and witty!

4,3 out of 5
2 total ratings

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