Aperture

Photo by Stephanie Hanno Photography

A Poem by Daniel Ramo

Ending a season on a high note requires 

knowing how to distinguish the fall 

from the falsetto. 

I walk the city and admire the veracity of its bridges—

strong, long, monumental, 

       like framing moments,

and wonder if walkers 

ever wanna jump, not to die, 

but to modify their 

failed landings. 

When the stranger in the coffee shop wanted to pray for me, 

I allowed him to 

because a head bows in deference 

to rest. 

I have surrendered and given up 

and the difference between the two 

is the distance between 

         hallow and 

         hollow. 

Even trees can calculate the mileage: 

allowing dead foliage to fall, 

creating new leaves that glow 

like Broadway lights.

Daniel Romo is the author of American Manscape (Moon Tide Press 2026), Bum Knees and Grieving Sunsets (FlowerSong Press 2023), Moonlighting as an Avalanche (Tebot Bach 2021), and other books. His work can be found in The Los Angeles Review, Hotel Amerika, Yemassee, and elsewhere. He received an MFA from Queens University of Charlotte, and he lives, writes, and rides his bikes in Long Beach, CA. More at danieljromo.com.