SM Stubbs

Something Like a Love Poem

In the balcony at Housing Works Bookstore  
a woman wearing a Harley jacket helps 
a photographer fill out papers for a grant. 
His English isn’t great so she’s explaining each 
line on the forms. She says to him, 
“When describing your work remember: 
this isn’t just a photo of a road—,” then car horns 
on Crosby drown out what else it is. She grazes 
his forearm, touches her hair, flirting. 

Years ago, I too sat here hoping to fall in love. 
I’d sip lattes while my heart cast spells 
on the beautiful people browsing the shelves. 
I tried pretending to need a book near their seat 
then waited for sparks to arc between us. 
I found tomes on witchcraft, wondered 
if they could help. At some point 
doesn’t everyone consider magic to solve 
the problem of romance? Potions, prayers or hex bags, 
whatever fills the lonely hollow beside you. 

Something always goes wrong though, that’s what 
books teach us, that we can never use magic 
to conjure a love that’s true because love 
is its own mercy. When our time comes, 
it conjures us, pairs us off ache to ache, 
echo to echo until we recognize ourselves in it. 

The Harley woman says to the man, “Your work 
must seduce the heart as much as the eye. Try 
to think of photographs as portals to places 
the viewer hasn’t been, places where 
the most extraordinary things happen.” They laugh. 
He nods, holds a hand over his mouth, blushes. 

SM Stubbs co-owned a bar in Brooklyn until recently. Recipient of a scholarship to Bread Loaf, nominated for the Pushcart and Best New Poets. Winner of the 2019 Rose Warner Poetry Prize from The Freshwater Review. His work has appeared in numerous magazines, including Poetry Northwest, Puerto del Sol, Carolina Quarterly, New Ohio Review, Iron Horse Literary Review, Crab Creek Review, December, and The Rumpus.