Poem 271 ± March 1, 2016

HIV Here & Now Contributors
Cento for 35 Years of AIDS I

What is ever truly without a breath of foreshadow?
In the mirror, I was going to tell you the story
of a friend who died, but he was not my friend;
he let me tell you about my friend.
I give my cousin my hand & think:
brushed late nights on paper,
so many candles—white fat columns.
A few days into my last trip home,
in the narrow elevator we shared,
membranes meet, my outside and yours, my cell is an ocean.
In my most recent future, I am young & beautiful & dead—
one joy one rock one fight one song one noun one shirt.
Remember the first house you can remember
with the certainty theologians claim for the salvation worked by Christ.

Large Blog ImageThis poem borrows lines from the first ten poems published on the HIV Here & Now website. Poets include Michael Broder, Julene T. Weaver, Merrill Cole, Sarah Sarai, L. Lamar Wilson, Joan Larkin, Risa Denenberg, Steven Cordova, Eileen R. Tabios, Joseph Osmundson, Danez Smith, Daniel Nester, Jennifer Michael Hecht, and Patrick Donnelly.