Elizabeth Romero: Things Without Substance

I walked home from work last night

My bones felt too big for my skin

The streets were deserted

It was my birthday and I wished for love

As usual which seemed

As far away as the moon

Convulsing on her ragged bed of clouds

Encased in the cold I swung past the dark stores

Toward coffee and morning and sleep

And the wind sang a long question in my ears

Copyright 2018 Elizabeth Romero