Nicola Kelly, Adaptation
Things I Found at the Bottom of My Doom Box
Rose Mary Boehm
Two half-eaten romances
A one-night stand
A kiss that never was
Butterfly wings made of regrets
Several hateful thoughts
Quite a few wild nights of alcohol, dance,
and expectations
An unfinished composition of little musical interest
High heels in hand, tiptoeing out of a hotel
Various boxes full of good intentions
A folder with poems that rhyme
Two chapters of him being handsome and strong,
her being needy and whiny
At least ten bundles of angst in all colors
Insecurity of African proportions and a good dollop
of body dysmorphia
A jump from the ten-meter board
to impress the boys
Tomes of heimweh in the key of E minor
Sacks full of false memories
Spring mornings with open windows, blue air,
and Vivaldi’s Mandolin Concerto No. 1
The mysteries of Oxfordshire’s hidden cottages
winking from behind wildflower hedges
A dislocated shoulder after practicing the Kama Sutra
Hand-washed nappies on the lines in the moonlit
garden, hanging them to the neighbor’s blue beat
Teddybearspicnic accompanied by watermelon
and Halloumi cheese
Nights with my colicky firstborn slung over my shoulder
My baby daughter’s first smile
Their father’s lover asking with shiny eyes
for his hand in marriage
Rose Mary Boehm
Two half-eaten romances
A one-night stand
A kiss that never was
Butterfly wings made of regrets
Several hateful thoughts
Quite a few wild nights of alcohol, dance,
and expectations
An unfinished composition of little musical interest
High heels in hand, tiptoeing out of a hotel
Various boxes full of good intentions
A folder with poems that rhyme
Two chapters of him being handsome and strong,
her being needy and whiny
At least ten bundles of angst in all colors
Insecurity of African proportions and a good dollop
of body dysmorphia
A jump from the ten-meter board
to impress the boys
Tomes of heimweh in the key of E minor
Sacks full of false memories
Spring mornings with open windows, blue air,
and Vivaldi’s Mandolin Concerto No. 1
The mysteries of Oxfordshire’s hidden cottages
winking from behind wildflower hedges
A dislocated shoulder after practicing the Kama Sutra
Hand-washed nappies on the lines in the moonlit
garden, hanging them to the neighbor’s blue beat
Teddybearspicnic accompanied by watermelon
and Halloumi cheese
Nights with my colicky firstborn slung over my shoulder
My baby daughter’s first smile
Their father’s lover asking with shiny eyes
for his hand in marriage