Elizabeth Romero: Morning
My friend Peter and I
Argued about love one time
Before he died.
Elizabeth Romero: Coffeehouse
Small latte to go he says
As a shaker claps against itself
Voices murmur around like gentle waves at the beach
Elizabeth Romero: O’Brien’s Funeral Parlor
The family, humble and resigned as a canvas jacket:
Their faces full of a still, impassive sorrow
Elizabeth Romero: Another Night
Like a deranged animal
the refrigerator growls on
Elizabeth Romero: Some Things
As if a woman
Should rise from nothing
And think not at all
Elizabeth Romero: No Substitutes
A shy skinny kid at the counter
Ordered pea soup.
The waitress dumped it from a small can
Added water and heated it.
Elizabeth Romero: Prayer
Heavenly Father
Who looks down on us
With all our confusions
Elizabeth Romero: Surfaces
We are trapped waiting
Moving behind the windows
The night weeps and heaves
Elizabeth Romero: The Next Big Thing
Oh, beautiful death from the sky!
Please, do not strike me
Or my dark tree.
Elizabeth Romero: Happiness
I live in a pink truck at the edge of the sky.
Elizabeth Romero: My Real Resume
I want to know why the corporate mentality sucks so bad.
Elizabeth Romero: The Sisters Who Raised Me
Now I thank the black butterflies, the Sisters who raised me.
Sister Jane, who taught me how to garden and identify weeds.
Sister Marie Therese, kind and soft. Sister May Bride
Who defied authority to comfort me when I was disgraced.
Elizabeth Romero: Album
Here are my two sons in 1968
In their father’s arms.
He looks harmless.
They look doubtful and uneasy.
