by Rose Mary Boehm
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| "Exhaustion" painting by Josie Carter |
The lethargy struck together with the monster virus.
When the worst of the coughing was over, when the fever
had left, when I could breathe freely again, I thought
I could pick up my life where I left off.
Instead, there was total fatigue. Brain fog.
Too tired to think.
Too tired to plan a future.
Too tired to write.
Too tired to smile.
Too tired to dream.
Too tired to be afraid.
Too tired to hate.
This poem doesn’t like to be written.
My fight no longer wants to be fought.
Climate crisis? Let it happen. The latest news? Who cares
about Ukraine. Trump? There is a faint echo of outrage.
White supremacists? A discreet wake-up call but not enough
right now. The UK prime minister is an idiot?
They all knew that when they voted for him.
Every day seems an effort, life
itself bends under the load of its weight.
Tired words stretch like bubble gum.
Would I be a hibernating bear, safe in the knowledge
that nothing was asked of me but sleep.
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 fifth poetry collection Do Oceans Have Underwater Borders will be published by Kelsay Books in July 2022.
