Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature

Elizabeth Romero: Birth

The next day she got up because of a dream.

The railroad cars were loaded with pale lumber

in the sun and all around were green-gold trees.

On the table were honey and salt,

six cents and a notebook.

The smoke from her cigarette and the steam from her coffee

curled upward like prayer.

A gray and white pigeon propelled itself across the sky

and  green leaves fluttered like a conductor’s hands.


 

Copyright 2018 Elizabeth Romero

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This entry was posted on January 3, 2018 by in Poetry and tagged , .

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