Poem 99 ± September 11, 2015

Eduardo Moreno
My First Ball

Perhaps her first real partner was the cab.
—Katherine Mansfield, “Her First Ball”

Exactly when the ball began I would find it hard to say.
Perhaps my first real partner was the magazine I picked up which read G.R.I.D.
Perhaps my first real partner was that article in which I recognised myself.
Perhaps my first real partners were all-of-those-men-covered-in-cutaneous-lesions.
Each of these men – the article read – had had thousands of sexual partners which translated into innumerable sex acts. The article broke these figures down.
Perhaps my first real partners were these figures: sex acts per week, per night, per hour.
How many sex acts are occurring now? I jumped. I couldn’t move.
Perhaps my first real partner was desire.
Perhaps I realised then that I wouldn’t always resist my desire.
Perhaps my first real partner was desire.

Exactly when the ball began I would find it hard to say.
The ball began in a booth in the Mission, video flicker urging us on
The ball began with a kiss in the Castro, rainbow flag flapping
The ball began in the library, a trailer park, Brompton Cemetery under the trees
The ball began in October: I’d been expecting it, I didn’t expect it. He called me over.
Perhaps he was my first real partner. I don’t remember his name.
The ball began with diagnosis: I remember bare branches, the oncoming winter.

Exactly when the ball began I would find it hard to say.
At diagnosis, they gave me five years.
After diagnosis, the ball moved me to Miami, London, Sydney.
Before diagnosis, the ball.
After diagnosis, the ball.
Perhaps my first real partner was Stephen.
Perhaps my first real partner was Louis.
Perhaps my first real partner was Michael.
Perhaps my first real partner was Jay.
Perhaps my first real partners have all gone.

Exactly when the ball began I would find it hard to say.
Five years after diagnosis, ritonavir.
Perhaps my first real partner was ritonavir.
Perhaps my first real partners have all gone.
Perhaps I will live forever.
Perhaps we’ll all live forever.
Perhaps my first real partner was atripla.
Perhaps my first real partner was truvada.
Perhaps we’ll all live forever.

Exactly when the ball began I would find it hard to say.
Perhaps my first real partner was desire.
Perhaps my first real partner is how come I’m still here?
Perhaps my first real partner is love.
Perhaps my first real partner is maybe I’ll wear gloves to the ball.
Perhaps my first real partner is probably I won’t.

Perhaps my first real partner is we have always had this ball.
Perhaps my first real partner is I will love you at this ball.
Perhaps my first real partner is I will fuck you at this ball.
Perhaps my first real partner is this fuck should last forever.

ed_morenoEduardo Moreno’s short stories have appeared at blithe.com, questions.com.au, Mini Shots, Poslink, and in the Best Gay Romance and Best Gay Erotica series published by Cleis Press. A native of Santa Fe, New Mexico, Eduardo lives in Melbourne, Australia, where he works as a bookseller. He was a 2014 Lambda Literary Fellow and is currently working on his first collection of short stories.

This poem is not previously published.