A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
You be the man.
I’ll be the woman.
You be black.
I’ll be white.
You be paranoid.
I’ll be ignorant.
Now we’ll fall in love.
I’ll take it on the chin for what I am.
You’ll take it in the gut for what you are.
We’ll break and mend and break again.
At last, I’ll smash a wine bottle
and wave the little jagged stub
and scream Enough.
And our blood will run together.
We’ll carry our scars like emblems of a secret club.
Copyright 2017 Elizabeth Romero