Elizabeth Romero: Being Poor
It can be waiting
And telling your children to wait
Wait their whole childhoods away.
It’s knowing they blame you.
Elizabeth Romero: Route Six
A bad time is coming we agree
I peer ahead at the changing shades of gray
On the road ahead
A light rain falls
Elizabeth Romero: Summer Sunrise
The sun came up this morning
Like a madwoman’s red eye
Elizabeth Romero: Question on a Wednesday Night
And you, my love.
Why do I feel alone without you
Whom I have never known?
Elizabeth Romero: The Myth of Nature
Nature, Mr Allnut, is what we are put on this earth to rise above.—Rose, in The African Queen . Let us take a lesson from nature Let the big ones … Continue reading
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 … Continue reading
Elizabeth Romero: Crèche
Above these dark suburban streetsThe stars come out like childrenOne by one.The moon is a pale gold heartBeating in cloudy ribs. Christmas is just past.The silent lights twinkleIn each small … Continue reading
Elizabeth Romero: Love
And suddenly she realized there would always be those who laughed at love, who sneered at it, who mocked it, tried to make it something fleeting and negligible like an … Continue reading
Elizabeth Romero: Carrying a Sign
Leaves on the wind circle in the air Like emissaries from another world Frantic warnings No one heeds them, they Push toward their usual destinations With their everyday faces … Continue reading
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 … Continue reading
Elizabeth Romero: Face in the Mirror
I have nothing to give you. Nothing is so marked that it cannot cheat you By its own nature and pass through your hands Like fairy money. I stand … Continue reading
Elizabeth Romero: As They Really Were
I want everybody here: The living and the dead. Not the dead as you might think: Rotted and smelling of the grave. Nor even as they were at the end … Continue reading
Elizabeth Romero: Debt
If I could be half-blind with reverie, or bathed breast-deep in seas of lives gone by, perhaps I could express all that you gave to me, or whisper worlds into … Continue reading
Elizabeth Romero: Summer Afternoon
At the furthest point there are clouds And more clouds and then the hill All crunchy green, then buildings Nearer and nearer, perfectly factual Dark empty windows and the flats … Continue reading
