Eloísa Pérez-Lozano


Eloísa Pérez-Lozano graduated from Iowa State University with a B.S. in psychology and an M.S. in journalism and mass communications. Two of her poems were finalists in the 2017 Friendswood Public Library Ekphrastic Poetry contest. A 2016 Sundress Publications Best of the Net nominee, her poetry has been featured in The Texas ObserverHouston Chronicle, Diverse Voices Quarterly, and The Acentos Review, among others. She lives with her family in Houston, Texas.

Twitter @elopoeta


He comes into their room
tells her she’s beautiful, amazing
she’s everything to him. 

The open sky brings peace,
there’s a slight breeze in the fields
and the clouds seem friendly
as they hover
  in the sky.

He starts asking her about
the innocuous exchange with
the mailman a few minutes ago.

The sky turns to gray
air thick with electricity
then green and pink hues flare
the colors of sudden fury.

She thinks how he has to know
nothing happened, but it’s no use
the familiar accusations have begun. 

The clouds crash against each other
birthing the thin and deadly spiral
that reaches for the ground,
flattening grass and scattering dirt.

Her phone explodes against the wall 
as she begs him to calm down
still denying his delusion. 

The string of whirling air touches down
leaning from side to side
growing stronger by the minute
turning toward a lonely house.

He crosses the room in quick strides
and backs her into a corner
where she cowers, trembling. 

The sound of a train horn
rips through the air
warning of imminent
and inevitable destruction.

He cuts her down with whisper-yells
forcing his way into her ears and soul
as she tries to ignore him, frozen in place. 

Roof tiles fly into the wind
as it yanks the wooden mailbox
swiftly from the earth and the
rose garden surrenders its beauty.

Sick of silence, he grips her throat,
and starts to choke her, screaming,
“You worthless, fucking cunt!” 

Siding shrieks as it tears away
bricks tumble into the air
the house ripped apart
by a force too-great.

Insults and saliva hit her gasping face
as her fingernails dig into his hands
trying to fight the force of his hate. 

Wood splinters and porcelain cracks
as the frame of the house
struggles to stay strong
against the whipping winds.

Finally, he lets her go
and she crumples to the floor
sinking into a dark unconscious. 

The storm dissipates into oblivion
leaving no evidence of existence
except a home and heart in ruins
and the illusion of peace.


© The Acentos Review 2018