Freedom Once Herbert had dreamed of being an artist. Instead he collected books and magazines in plastic bin-liners during the greater part of fifty years. When he knew he was dying, he showered only on Sundays. In his small flat, taken over by old newspapers, mice gnawed small tunnels through politics, culture, and false alarms. One Sunday morning, Herbert woke, a happy man. He grinned while he shredded newspapers, magazines and journals, mixed them with water and paste and sculpted himself as an exultant, bright figure, arms outstretched, poised for dance or flight. Rose Mary Boehm Read another poem by Rose Mary in The Ekphrastic Review, here. 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 by Chaffinch Press in 2020. Want to find out more? https://www.rose-mary-boehm-poet.com/
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September 2023
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