April 16, 2016/May 19, 2016 Not the metaphor but the raw, uncovered, discovered, exposed ankles and throat knees, elbows and belly breasts and buttocks the genitals From blood shimmering scream to sagging gray sigh delivered up to flames or worms the truest tale of a life its best kept secret Ancient Grand-dad’s big penis at the toilet ancient children snickering at the window teenagers’ knowing disgust at Grannie’s dark bathroom choosing to no longer see or never see or be seen Eyes of doctors and passers-by and lovers on exposed naked flesh rules and rituals for seeing and showing the crux of my Whitman-like thrust all that is mine to cover and show A dream of twelve year old boys their quiet fascination at the public nakedness I struggled to hide humiliated not devastated the caress of your eyes and hands without you without me The snake’s pale cold line from breast, hip and buttocks into the moist dark the final metaphor
Martin Ahrens 