Poems by Rose Mary Boehm

Sighting of the Unicorn

Some said they saw it all.
Others came from the mist
and heard the stories
told by those who hadn’t really been there.
They were unanimous:

It had risen from the snow,
had leaped from the underbrush,
rushed towards the king’s men,
horn lowered it had skewered the wolf,
had turned from white to blue
when the moon came up,
it had whinnied with triumph
and melted into the fog.
They had seen it.
It had been a hoax.

As time passed, the unicorn deniers
and the believers escalated their
differences until war became inevitable.
The cause forgotten as soon pure hate
made the men and women lower their lances.

From now to now

Hurry, hurry… make it happen.
Now.
When we had all the time in the world,
when we were immortal,
when we were heroes
chased by demons,
when we were short-winded in our
quest to slay
as many dragons as we could.

I am late, I am late,
for a very important date…

Breathless. 
No time to look back,
no time to look forward…
no time.

Then, one day, we stopped to smell
the newly mown meadow, inhale the petrichor.
One day we remembered that we always had a choice.
One day we looked around us
and saw how much time we’d wasted
in a hurry.

Foxtrott

Giggles behind clammy hands,
starched skirt, five petticoats. 
Only this morning ‘they’ – 
on the other side of the hall – 
wore short pants and dirty faces. 
Yesterday I beat them at math,
apart from the volleyball that
nearly killed Werner. 
We were worried but had to giggle.
He was always such a prat.
Today they are stiff
in their Sunday best, and with their
awkward stance they’ve become ETs. 
Some are still drifting. 
The teacher is at her shrill, 
most school-mistress best: 
“Boys to the right, girls to the left. 
Choose your partners. 
Foxtrott please, band…”