Poet, Rose Mary Boehm

Covalent Bonding

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.

Foundations

cracks

in concrete walls

held up by graffiti

passing trains

shake foundations

pale humans

huddle in corners

with devices that

promise memories

of things never known

and whisper

on a wind charged

with a wild fragrance:

don’t deny the old gods

Make-believe

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.