Enlightenment in the Parking Lot

 

You curl up in the corner of the washroom

without concern about the urine on the floor

 

and you hear hot voices and cool riffs

leave through the door of the village barn

 

where they celebrate your getting hitched

to husband number three. While you were pensive

 

and wondered, he stumbled drunk

into your best friend holding on to her tits

 

to soften his fall. You lick salt and hug yourself

not caring about the bruises, then you lift

 

yourself, slowly, because your body is heavy,

and you walk out unseen through the back entrance.

 

You kick off your heels, your head clears some

and when you get to the parking lot

 

you’re not sure where you’ll be driving,

but you know you won’t die again.

 

 

imperfect recall

 

in the car whistling

shrieking metal on metal

big woman shuffles

a soprano voice and

sharp cuts crystal

shatters on flagstone

I have insurance

abandoned fields fierce

orange mushrooms push

open the wound on a fallen trunk

old man furtively pisses

out old afflictions mosquitoes

throng and settle on

the heat coming off me

smears of blood on my cage

suppose it’s mine

then it was summer

night air police sirens

one-hundred-and-seven days

needed to return

now bare trees smeared

glass brittle with frost

tattered images

 

by Rose Mary Boehm

A German-born UK national, Rose Mary Boehm lives and works in Lima, Peru. Author of two novels and a poetry collection (TANGENTS) published in 2011 in the UK, well over 100 of 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.

%d bloggers like this: