Thursday 2 September 2021

Four Poems by Rose Mary Boehm


 

Anamnesis

 

Acutely, I remembered you,

Navigating my days and nights for years.

Apostle-hood was nearly mine. You said: Do it in

My name. But after so many lifetimes

Nobody recalled the

Essential you.

Service in a name alone

Is not enough to avoid the terrible

Sacrifice of deeper truth.

 

 

Balance


 

It’s the time of life’s imbalance,

perception itself is up for review,

choices are based on illusions.

Once man walked humbly,

secure in the knowledge

that the earth was aware of him

and he of her.

He shared her soil.

A great stillness

was piercing the veil

and the stars were proof

of a celestial homeland.

 

Now is the time of narcissism,

denying the delicate threads

that hold our fragile planet on course.

 

Gaia seeks balance;

the fear, pain, and grief

of thousands soak as offering

into the altar of equilibrium.


 

 

Boil them

 

The silk-worm’s cocoon is made from one continuous thread of fluid silk,

produced in the worm's modified salivary glands, which hardens on contact with the air.

 

Silk moths can’t fly. They

can only lay more eggs

which you can store

in your fridge for years.

Planned silk-hood.



Bombyx mori grow

about 70 times their

original size feeding

on white mulberry leaves.



Ad: Silkworm Chow,

powdered and premade.

‘Stiff silkworm’ will dispel

flatulence, relieve spasms.



You must boil the cocoons

together with their owners

or they’ll destroy their own

raw-silk suits. By their small horns

you’ll know when the time comes.



Recently it was discovered 

that they began spinning

bullet-proof silk

after being exposed

to an electric field.


Someone said that silkworm

are able to learn.

But in thousands of years

they did not understand

that they manufacture

their own death.

 

 

Leaning drunk against a doorframe

Slaughtered riffs
join dreamy paper hats
around a table made
from dissonant words.
Rejects dance along
perfumed storms
in gaudy tassels stolen
from chanting choirboys.
The laughing preacher man
will get you.





Rose Mary Boehm is a German-born British national living and writing in Lima, Peru. Her poetry has been published widely in mostly US poetry reviews (online and print). She was twice nominated for a Pushcart. Her fourth poetry collection, THE RAIN GIRL, was published in 2020. Her fifth, DO OCEANS HAVE UNDERWATER BORDERS, has just been snapped up by Kelsay Books for publication May/June 2022. Her website: https://www.rose-mary-boehm-poet.com/


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