Andrea DeAngelis- Three Poems

 Magnetic

a chained-up moment

caged in a delirious choleric storm

moan about lazy Suzy tornadoes

and 26 hour diner woes

filled to the brim with delirium

coffee spilling philosophy

and no eternity

she is always here

in the diner

stuffed in the corner

where you won’t see her

unless you want to

her elaborate mass eatings

consuming fleshy nippled visions

allow her to ask these boys

sweet stares as if crushing

tickles wandering minds

unwrap you naked

she is here

sucking attention

her skirt hiked up

to unflattering contours

rigid varicose valleys

of lost men and expectations

sit back and enjoy

the witching hour ride

while the room spins round

to your clucking demise.

seven minutes

Everyone acted normal in the abnormal light

everyone acted as if this was a common occurrence

as if the sky had just been swallowed

just for them

just for seven minutes

and their minimal generation.

Flattened

Do you remember that eclipse?

How everything was flattened within?

Shadows were fattened up

and everyone’s souls were stretched out

too thin before them.

I was not a part of it

because you were with her

and I was with no one.

In those seven minutes

loneliness had a heaviness

it dragged me to the ground

and drowned.

All my senses

grew sickened and senseless

like death never coming

like continuing to exist

after she kissed you.

A short bio

Andrea DeAngelis is at times a poet, writer, shutterbug and musician living in New York City. Andrea sings and plays guitar in the indie rock band MAKAR (www.makarmusic.com). Her writing has recently appeared in Tin House, Salome Magazine and Camel Saloon.