never recovered from the storms of ’93
when lightning stroked shingles, shorted out circuits;
left one side wind blown and sagging.
Tufts of moss sprout from the bowed memory
of taut boards. A plague of crickets
lurk beneath stairs; creaking their arthritic chatter.
From a threadbare recliner in a ramshackle room
I gaze over fields at a familiar view,
distorted by windows now broken and rheumy.
This month’s featured poet on Days of Stone is Rose Mary Boehm. I came across Rose’s poetry years ago when I first joined Goodreads and was instantly drawn to her bold imagery and precise style – Rose makes every single word work hard to earn its place. In recent times I have set myself a challenge – to have one of my poems published in a magazine/website/review that Rose hasn’t already appeared in. It seems that no matter where I look or to which publication I submit, Rose already has poetry published there. To say she is prolific is an understatement. And there is a reason – to have such a quantity of work out there is one thing, but Rose has done it without compromising on quality. She has such a strong voice and I find her poetry grabs me and holds on tight right to the very last word.
I no longer have need for adornments
Correct me. Cut me open
with a heavy pair of scissors,
unfold flesh and bone, lay open my thoughts.
The ones right there on the surface
as well as those so deeply encrusted
you’ll have use your scraper.
Take your red marker.
Cross this and that, strike out
whatever is superfluous.
-> Read the full poem and Rose’s bio here: Featured Poet-Rose Mary Boehm