Another Mermaid Story
A small, brown village
on the Cornish coast.
Ruby married Fred.
She’d had enough of filing
in the ‘Museum for Fishing and Smuggling’.
Fred liked Ruby because she was round
and sleek as a seal.
A slight scent of oceanon the Cornish coast.
Ruby married Fred.
She’d had enough of filing
in the ‘Museum for Fishing and Smuggling’.
Fred liked Ruby because she was round
and sleek as a seal.
hovered over her skin.
Ravenous triplets sucked her dry.
In the supermarket she pushed
a tank with three activated
missiles from aisle to aisle.
Ruby soon neglected them.
Preferred to watch
the silvery catches
in the harbour.
Fred hired a nanny. Took to her.
Ruby took to the fishermen.
Both grew into the comfortable
co-existence of mutual dislike.
Ruby disappeared.
Fred drank her health.
In the bar that night a fisherman
mentioned that he’d seen a selky
swim out into the Celtic Sea.
Bye, Mum
You took
off, left behind your memories.
My brain’s
gone off orbit.
Know what?
As far as memories go
I like yours
better.
Sitting on a
pile of clothes; can’t find my socks.
Do you know
what drugs do to your self?
Know what?
As far as selves go
I like yours
better.
The big
empty house lives, whispers and threatens.
When I
needed you, you lived your life, selfish cow.
Know what?
As far as lives go
I like yours
better.
It’s alright now. No it’s not.
You took off. And so did I.
Know what?
As far as takeoffs go
I like yours
better.
There was a
time when it no longer hurt.
You took
your CDs.
Know what?
As far as music goes
I like yours
better.
In the mornings the blue spiders of the early hours
crawl over
me.
And it’s all
over now.
Know what?
As far as endings go,
I like
mine better.
clandestine
meet
me at the old
victoria
station hotel
make
it eleven.
hookers,
lovers, trains
pass
sooty windows
don’t
bring luggage
just
remember
how
I loved you
last
winter in Antwerp.
your
wet skin reflects
the
almost light
under
these high ceilings,
bent
venetian blinds hide
curtains
torn by time,
the
station clock
has
no mercy.A German-born UK national, Rose Mary Boehm lives and works in Lima, Peru. Author of two novels and a poetry collection published in 2011 in the UK, ‘TANGENTS’, her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in a good two dozen US poetry reviews as well as some print anthologies, and Diane Lockward’s The Crafty Poet. She won third price in in the 2009 Margaret Reid Poetry Contest for Traditional Verse (US), and has been a finalist in several GR contests, winning it in October 2014.
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