They would Have Come through Petra

Haroun, Haroun. My lover
was buried in Mont Seir,
in Rekem, in the sanctuary,
by those who made water
spring from rocks
in the desert city.

Entombed in solid rock he lies
until the earth once more
splits the stone, lets water
run again into the Wadi.

Since the eighteenth dynasty
I have been waiting
where the valley opens
onto the plains, where I shall
hold the desert winds
with my breath,
waiting for the rain.



* * * * *

A German-born UK national, Rose Mary Boehm lives and works in Lima, Peru. Author of two novels and a poetry collection (Tangents), her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in US poetry reviews. Toe Good Poetry, Poetry Breakfast, Burning Word, Muddy River Review, Pale Horse Review, Pirene’s Fountain, Other Rooms, Requiem Magazine, Full of Crow, Poetry Quarterly, Punchnel’s, Avatar, Verse Wisconsin, Naugatuck River Review, Boston Literary, Red River Review, Ann Arbor, Main Street Rag, Misfit Magazine and others.

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