The Walk

by Rose Mary Boehm

The white-blond kid in that photo was my brother. Today, death lies inside his femurs, his blood a bitter cocktail. Three weeks on, four weeks off. He held my hand when I learned to walk, and then I walked further and further away, leaving him to his distress, the burden too heavy for me. His wife slowly bent under the weight of anticipated loss. Today I am holding his hand while he walks, smiling, to the front line.


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? Visit her online.