Bio Note: I have been writing poems as long as I can remember. Being a German-born British national who lives in Peru it goes without saying that my first poems were in German. Mostly they rhymed. And they were political. I was keen to follow in the footsteps of Tucholski, Kästner, Roth et al. Two novels and three poetry collections later, Chaffinch Press in Ireland published my latest poetry collection The Rain Girl (in English, of course) during COVID time.
Clarissa On the Roof
Clarissa on the roof holds on to the lightning rod. People take her in their stride. After all, the villagers have seen it coming. “It started when her mum locked herself in and painted tsunamis.” “Yeah, and then her dad built a boat in the living room.” “They had to take out the wall to move it!” Clarissa above the flood waters waits to be picked up.
A prisoner of politics and communal fears. Locked up. My guilt is age. Not just a misdemeanor, almost a crime. My country—as almost every other one—is trying to flatten a curve which remains beautifully rounded. Going up perhaps, but it’s hard to tell in a developing world with rampant corruption, bad maths, ignorance. After months of involuntary incarceration I am becoming hollow. My nights fill with unattainable freedom, squeals of happiness, my grandchildren in summer-blue waters, exotic flowers and the greens of a world I left behind. London, Hampstead, Lady’s Pond. Closing my eyes, night welcomes me. My thoughts spin with the stars who would be my companions. Like in the castle of ‘Sleeping Beauty’, exotic briars wind themselves around my dreams until I become transparent. Do I exist because you can see me? or do I exist because I dream you?
©2021 Rose Mary Boehm
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