Assuage
A poem for World Aids Days 2006

1.

This is her litany of fears;

like Larson's musical: " Will I
lose my dignity? Will someone

care?" She is the living; not
the dying from disease-

but how we take her,
as a corpse before the bier.

2.

"So, what will you do now?" I asked,

but she would only gaze at me
with an untold sadness in her eyes.

"I could not empathise,
could I?" I thought-

Her woes were beyond
the experience of an 18 year old.

"I got it when I was 18," she began,

"the terrible irony of it," I thought-
almost hesitant,

almost awkwardly.

"My boyfriend said I was the only one,"
she continued,

"So did mine," I thought-
almost hesitant,

almost awkwardly.

"He was 18 too," she said,

"So was mine," I thought-
almost hesitant,

almost awkwardly.

"Neither of us saw the need for a condom,"
she let on,

"Did he see it the same way as well?" I thought-
almost hesitant,

almost awkwardly.

"We loved the danger," she revealed,

"Danger called out to us," I thought-


"So it was always rough raw fucks for us,"
her honesty shook me;

the cushion seat was trembling
beaneath me- or was it just me?

"Oh, shit." My thoughts were spit into words.

3.

She would not look at me again,

for as long as our conversation would last,
as if her guilt would be assuaged. But

this was no Rent- it was real
and it was happening. She would

want to trudge on with her story- but her
precious minutes should not be,

wasted on a wretch like me.

"Let's talk about something else," I said.

She would only let her eyes
flirt with the white walls- only figuring

I might have seen her as a cadaver cold,
even before the virus has taken hold.

4.

I was ashamed immediately. It
could have been me

in her place.


cuRRent...jer  ¶ 1:53 pm