Elizabeth Romero: Perspective

The woman who lived here before me was Spanish.

I have found her attempts to battle the roaches

pasted under the heater and sink,

have swept dried beans and rice out of the corners.

They say her husband left her for a woman across town.

She couldn’t take it.

She went to New Jersey to live with her sister.

She had two girls, they say.

She left her pots, pans, clothes, sheets, games and furniture,

torn, dented and patched

exactly like mine.

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