Elizabeth Nowak has earned an Honorable Mention in Streetlight’s 2021 Poetry Contest
Before the whole world went mad,
you wrote to ask about my life
in beautiful America. I could not then describe in words
we both know how gray the sky is.
There is little these days
except skinny arms
passing money and brown bags through a hole in the wall
of the Big Red Liquor store. I’ve grown sick
watching it and the chitter of birds
outside my window. I am thinking often of that day in spring
when you took me to your hometown,
where every house was small
and made of wood
If I could only write you now, I would say
my life is the size of your house.
My sky is the patchy white of old plaster.
My grass, pile carpet on hardwood.
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