She stands there, transparent and brittle.
Just another day of not quite life. She stares
at the glass on which raindrops slowly
and silently make their way into the gutter,
their molecules spanning a firm skin around each
one of their own. She earnestly follows their progress
knowing that her skin is no longer tight around her.
She has lost the stable balance of attractive
and repulsive forces between her atoms.
in concrete walls
held up by graffiti
huddle in corners
with devices that
of things never known
on a wind charged
with a wild fragrance:
don’t deny the old gods
Another Spring and sharp shadows
cut the bright-green lawn. The gothic
led windows, each one reaching up to its arch,
make that fresh sun dance on old
wooden parquet. The old rectory
has been converted to a romantic hotel.
The kids came too. Hopeful. Shiny.
You were apprehensive, I was still bleeding.
I had promised you I’d try one more time,
and the children expected too much.
We walked across sparkling April lawns
and I knew then we couldn’t defeat winter.
A German-born UK national, Rose Mary Boehm lives in Lima, Peru. Author of two novels and three poetry collections, her work has been widely published, mainly in the US. Her latest full-length poetry MS, ‘The Rain Girl’, will be published by Chaffinch Press in 2020.