Spring 2008, Volume 4

Poetry by Daniel Romo

Blood Brothers

When we were 10
We pricked our index fingers,
Squeezed them tight
Until they resembled a crimson
And rubbed them together.
He moved four years later
And I never saw him
Until the other day,
When I was bored at work
And succumbed to
My Space again.
His shaved head,
Bad tattoos,
And double birds
Made it difficult to recognize
My friend.
I recalled that day
In Ms. Barrett‘s class
When we manipulated staples
And became family—
The two-story, built-in pool, white boy
And the two bedroom, Doughboy Latino,
“Brothers Forever...”
The swastika he now wore
On his left wrist,
Told me
We lost touch,
Long ago.

Gym Night

“I‘m going to the gym,” I say,
Before shutting the door and
Shutting her out
In the process.
Of course it’s a lie,
And I think she’s catching on,
But I don’t care
And I hate to call it an
But she doesn’t
My passion.
Just the same,
Hidden it remains,
On my way
Every Wednesday night
To Open Mic,
Sharing my soul with strangers.

BIO:  I teach high school English. I write poetry because I have a short attention span. I strive to be witty, but relevant. I‘m an introvert who uses first-person too much, is addicted to SportsCenter, and who sees people as people.