Vox Populi
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Rose Mary Boehm: Poinciana and then some
Green canopies aflame with
an unreal red, lit by the dying sun.
Yonhi in the plastic chair, blue baseball
cap pushed back. He’s seen it all.
Shifts of twelve hours. He’s nearly
done. Always polite.
Smile, Yonhi.
Help the maid carry
that horrible little dog across
the road; the fat señora from
705 needs the trolley
for her shopping; the kids
from 1102, who only last week
put cucarachas in his portero’s hut,
drip seawater in the hall from their
wet suits and surf boards.
Not sure how he’ll pay
the rent he owes since December.
Looks forward to the cantina,
a few drinks will set him right.
His big brown hands fold and unfold.
Knuckles almost white.
He never means to hurt his wife.
~~~
Copyright 2026 Rosemary Boehm
Rose Mary Boehm is a German-born British national living and writing in Lima, Peru. Author of two novels, short stories, eight poetry collections and one chapbook, her poetry has been published widely. Her new chapbook, ‘The Matter of Words’, was published in June 2025, and a new full-length collection has been slated for publishing in 2027.
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What a strong poem. Our sympathy is entirely with Yonhi, portrait built detail by detail. And then that killer of a last line.
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Yes, the sympathetic portrait of the man is rich and moving, then the last line turns the poem on its head, demonstrating that everyone, even an abuser, deserves recognition of his humanity.
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A superb, disturbing, and oh so evocative work!
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Thank you, Rose Mary.
This poem’s turn in the last line enhances the power of the previous imagery. Under poinciana colors, and a scene of some male presence attempting to keep his flaming power burning, the true horrors he produces eventually become clear.
A poem worth remembering.
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Excellent interpretation, Jim. Thank you!
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Rose Mary as I was reading the last line of your cadenced, urgent, raw poem, I heard myself say “I hear you” — and I do! Such moments you show so well in such an ardent poem. The seawater drips from the suits, that horrible little dog, those white knuckles on the brown hands. What a poem!
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Yes, such a concatenation of rich details here.
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Powerful last line. Do we ever mean to cause harm? And to live in such arduous labor.
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Thank you so much, friends. I so appreciate your comments.
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Great poem!
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I’m so moved by this poem this morning, by its brilliant colors and vibrant imagery and careful building in so brief space of a portrait, and then the surprising ending, and the space thereafter which fills not with blame but with compassion for both Yonhi and his wife. Such music and drama! Thank you!
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OMG what a poem!!! 🙏
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So much truth in so few words. This is why I seek poetry when the world seems to have gone to shit. Thank you.
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I always love reading your work, Rose. This reminds me of “The Doorman” by Chris Pavone – except you managed to say it all in a few stanzas instead of a whole novel! (Not that I mind reading a whole novel.)
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Vivid but quiet. I like the way the burdens of his days build, how the portrait builds. Thanks Rosemary and Michael
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Isn’t Rose Mary great? I love the rich imagery counterpointing the domestic violence.
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Thank YOU, Jennifer!
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Rosemary: What a superb poem! It’s as if John Houston was directing its cinematic action, and a great cameraman taking in the local color, not a significant detail gone unnoticed. You’re the magnificent musician and beating heart of this “song…”
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