A tiny ash in my glass of fresh milk as I was listening to her songs again makes me think of the one I should have forgotten but never forgiven. And if the stars keep on shining in the night sky, then I might go back over there with no fear of the future. And if you keep on smiling for no reason, I could knit you this jumper of woollen tears. But don’t even try to come back, all the landscapes of our lives have left us without anything to dream of. She keeps on singing in the rain and her voice is like a hurricane destroying all the happiness inside my soul after a hard working day among my own private jokes.

My pen has sunk into the fresh milk I stopped drinking and started to read the dark ages book again. Men have come back in my eyes, landing on my hair. Shall I ever forget you?

2. Fireflies

You cannot but see them in the darkness
of your deepest dreams.
The last but ones
they never die.

This one is an old queen escaped from the dark ages. This other one’s a young Luke Skywalker, fire-flyer whose never known his unforgivable name.

Another one approaches. He’s like a mirror facing the sky. An illusion from the future of mankind.

New genesis of the Fireflies in the dark skies.

3. Crimson Star

Who could you be when no more light shines in your eyes? Your soul could become a space bit, but too proud to be doomed you carry on your life sat down in between a funny death thought and the orange peels from the last break you took.

Mr Freeze has come back from Iceland. Will she sing again for you?

And if something breaks up in your soul, you are to be a stirrer of the past, something that might never exist again. Some sort of old humanoid, crimson star lost in the skies.

First published by International Writers’ Association, Teresinka Pereira, Bluffton Ohio, 1997.

Walter Ruhlmann works as an English teacher, edits mgversion2>datura and runs mgv2>publishing. He is the author of several poetry chapbooks and e-books in French and English and has published poems and fiction in various printed and electronic publications worldwide. He is an associate editor at Poet & Geek and has been nominated for the Pushcart once.

Object(s) to bring back to life: “I miss the good, old type-writers sometimes. Still have one at my parents’ which can’t be used any more as it worked with a kind of tape in a cassette they don’t produce any more (Canon). Remington’s were probably the best though. Besides, in France, we had that telecommunication thing called Minitel. We thought it would be the future of remote communication. There were numbers to be dialled on your phone such as 3615, 3613, etc and a kind of loggin to go along with it; for instance, you dialled 3615 and typed poetry and would stumble upon some slow to load page with information about poetry. As usual, adult content pages took over the rest. 3615 Hot, 3615 Ulla, 3615 Sexy… You can imagine. These have not been used for some time and were swept away by computers and the internet of course. I miss them… somehow. These are probably the two objects I’d like to use once more in my lifetime.”