A Goddamn Lady
poetry by Randi M. Romo
A Goddamn Lady
You wore your tragedy like haute couture
a magnificent creation that had all eyes
on you as you pony stomped down life’s
runway, a country boy who hauled ice for
a living, who, come Friday and Saturday
nights transformed into, as you so elegantly
put it, a goddamn lady, resplendent in
rhinestone laden gowns, a burning star
in the midst of the dark, smoky havens
of our homes away from the homes we’d
left or been cast out from, these ninety-proof
lairs of salvation where we forged new
families, hammering out our existence to
disco and showtunes, while you reigned
fiercely with just a touch of trailer trash
a queen, risen from the ashes, of used to be
The cough, it came with the winter, thought
it was a cold until that moment when we knew
that it wasn’t, that terrible day the tests
came back, Pneumocystis pneumonia, and
yes, you were HIV-positive, a script for AZT
and the pity in the nurse’s eyes, as the doctor
advised you to get your affairs in order, long
term survival, most likely not in the cards
the truth of that, echoed in the many names
of those we’d lost already, as the crisis bloomed
into a funerary corsage deemed appropriate
for “those people” who deserved what they got
while the White House, silently ignored
the deaths of queers, junkies and whores
Tears and whiskey filled a lot of the early days
the progression measured in the circumference
of my arms around you, as little by little your
body began to slip away from you, though
you danced until your legs would no longer
hold you, your shoulders unable to bear the
weight of your gowns, your lips no longer able
to mouth the words that you could no longer
remember, your trembling hands unable to hold
a mascara wand, the light in your eyes dimming
as the stage lights went dark, that final moment
when we gave you back to whence you’d come
after it was all done, I got into the car with a bottle
and drove for miles, until I found myself, out in
the middle of nowhere lying upon the hood, looking
up into the night time sky, imagining the stars
Swarovski crystals, adorning your final curtain call
Randi M. Romo
Romo is a 62 yr. old, Latinx, queer woman, writer, artist, a long-time activist and organizer. She is currently a dialysis tech, working and living in Little Rock, AR. Despite having a formal education that only went to the 6th grade, Romo has emerged as an exceptional, narrative, poetic storyteller. Her education disrupted by the harsh consequences of an era that did its best to erase the truth of her identity. Incarceration in a state mental hospital for two years and a religious based school for another, took a toll on her, that manifested in a decade long campaign to burn herself to the ground. Through it all, she continued to write, honing her own style of poetry that is both memoir and observational.
In 2018, Romo saw her first book, OTHERED, published by the Little Rock based, Sibling Rivalry Press. OTHERED is the first book in Sibling Rivalry's Arkansas Queer Poet Series. It was also named a top-five title of 2018 by the American Library's GLBT Roundtable. Romo has recently finished her second manuscript, Blood & Halos.