Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature

Elizabeth Romero: Angel

It is night I am here

On my street in this warm kitchen

At this bright table

I put water on for tea it is wonderful

To be here the kettle boils the cold

Crouches outside

Night moves on the spindly legs of time

Steam rises from the cup like forgiveness

Bits of conversation from earlier in the day come back to me now

Do you remember Sarah said

the old woman who complained of her piles?

Well, she is gone.

And Angel, the artist, who drank

until he fell down? He is gone.

A hit-and-run on the edge of town

Where he lived and where

There are not enough streetlights

I told her he tried to teach me Spanish

I remember cara is face and pelo is hair

Someone said how could you keep on

Driving when you knew you had hit someone?

I said I guessed for that moment you could be more

Afraid of the trouble than of what you had done

I think now it was darkness that killed Angel

Night, that big cold lonesome space out there

And cara I think—pelo.


Copyright 2019 Elizabeth Romero

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Information

This entry was posted on April 1, 2019 by in Poetry, Social Justice and tagged , , .

Enter your email address to follow Vox Populi and receive new posts by email.

Join 10,372 other followers

Blog Stats

  • 3,488,838 hits

Archives

%d bloggers like this: