/merrillcole/

 

Around my head the ghost face rolls,

unsteady halo, stolen gold,

radioactive discharge

burning off, all I could never

bring myself to bless. Lopsided man,

 

can you say or guess what fig leafs

your cold nakedness, the half-life

of quarter-loves, shadow figures

against the wall—all man, or

maybe doll? Who cannot touch

 

himself, whose pleading seems record

of an instrument that scrapes off crust

of sentiment, that wind-up talk:

I want to swallow you, I will

peel away your wings. The wet grin

 

slides into my undefended

mouth. Staccato laughter rings out:

hot spit flying into emptiness,

biohazard semen and piss.

This upbeat ballad played backwards,

 

phantom twin, an automaton

bruising out the numbers again,

x-ray trespass, you cannot see,

curse lipped in the mirror, warmer

brother—ultraviolet—almost me.

 

HIV Here & Now (20 November 2016).