Walter Ruhlmann


Bring It Close to My Lips

It all started from this incantation—
               Orange is the first name
               of the Akhenaten man
               and his purple penis
               will open the windows
               of imagination.

I raved in harmony with the past, dragons, and a lustful scorpion.

A smell of wild rose rose from it.
Close to it, my nose entered with forgotten fragrances
once known from my nostrils,
used to it,
accustomed to and craving for the protein-rich food,
like starved orphans with carved cheeks and out-jutting bones.

Jut it out just once more,
my lips may be wet from envy,
they need more juice to moisten up,
want more of this healing ointment, dizzying liquor, bodily syrup.

Let me cup my mouth
gaping for the dew drops spurting,
erupting from the fruit
not forbidden but blessed instead
by the four Erotes.



What did you want to prove?
What was it meant to be?

The jasper stone crashed on your head and made you think about the way your behaviour could have blown up an existence, a shared animus; the one you longed for when you were up there, watching the stars crawling on the ethereal velvet of some unconscious veil covering your life.

The Rosetta Stone bears signs and letters unknown to you and you wanted to decipher.
You are no Lucifer, no morning star defying the one and only, and yet your father expelled you for being what you are and showing arrogance and pretence.

Lucy, the light of life, sparkles in the dark age of some remote places.
The wild savannah of your savage soul.

You knelt before the grave, stepping in dirt to move a pot over.
There were those beautiful flowers around his new home: crimson and dark, orange, purple.
It was surrounded by moist soil, sand and some specks of dust.

You cried over his tomb because no one would care if the flood from your depth would overflow the yard. You always overflow when you feel left alone, unable to control the verbiage, your uttered incontinence.



Walter Ruhlmann works as an English teacher, edits mgversion2>datura and runs mgv2>publishing. His latest collections are Maore, published by Lapwing Publications, UK, 2013 and Carmine Carnival, published by Lazarus Media, USA, 2013. The Year the World Ended... Not is forthcoming in 2014 through Robocup Press. His blog is thenightorchid.blogspot.f .


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MadHat, Issue 15, Winter 2013-2014