Rose Mary Boehm- Three Poems

Fractal of a Lynch Mob

His unseeing eyes

turn toward
the scorched land.

It is not his earth,

but blazes spread.

Those who set the fires

left long ago. But he decided
he knows who's guilty

and points

his accusing cane
to where he hears voices.

Friday night binge in the City of London

His big sweaty palm leaves a mark.

She barely notices his touch.

She’s on her fifth Rum and Coke

Rum to get that tension down,

Coke to keep you standing.

Old-fashioned drink but who

cares and she doesn’t do stuff.

He wishes for a large ungulate

and a shiny armor.

It’s a sweet summer night and the

‘Slug and Lettuce’ is full. He gets

waylaid by shiny things.

It’s so inevitable.

She’s switches to vodka orange.

Her wings feel wooden.

Her laughter sounds shriller.

Her standing becomes erratic.

His kisses taste of brass.

Strange.

She thought he was in equities.

When she slides into fetal position

by the green container

the trombone falls from his hands.

Don’t touch

my soul.

God About His Actions (overheard sound bite)

Smiting was fun for a while, but soon there

were too many of you. And leave Nietzsche

out of this. He was one of the worst blamers.

Job did all this to himself, the bonehead,

and then blamed me. Thinking he knew

what I wanted of him. I wanted nothing.

Just wanted him to shut up. Thought

if I emptied the cornucopia of my benevolence

over him he'd be too busy counting his sheep.

​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), was semi-finalist in the Naugatuck poetry contest 2012/13 and has been a finalist in several GR contests, winning it in October 2014.