I



Admitted to the hospital again.

The second bout of pneumocystis back

In January almost killed him; then,

He'd sworn to us he'd die at home.  He baked

Us cookies, which the student wouldn't eat,

Before he left--the kitchen on 5A

Is small, but serviceable and neat.

He told me stories: Richard Gere was gay

And sleeping with a friend if his, and AIDS

Was an elaborate conspiracy

Effected by the government.  He stayed

Four months. He lost his sight to CMV.

      

   II



One day, I drew his blood, and while I did

He laughed, and said I was his girlfriend now,

His blood-brother.  "Vampire-slut," he cried,

"You'll make me live forever!" Wrinkled brows

Were all I managed in reply.  I know

I'm drowning in his blood, his purple blood.

I filled my seven tubes; the warmth was slow

To leave them, pressed inside my palm.  I'm sad

Because he doesn't see my face.  Because

I can't identify with him.  I hate

The fact that he's my age, and that across

My skin he's there, my blood-brother, my mate.

      

   III



He said I was too nice, and after all

If Jodie Foster was a lesbian,

Then doctors could be queer.  Residual

Guilts tingled down my spine.  "OK, I'm done,"

I said as I withdrew the needle from

His back, and pressed.  The CSF was clear;

I never answered him.  That spot was framed

In sterile, paper drapes.  He was so near

Death, telling him seemed pointless.  Then, he died.

Unrecognizable to anyone

But me, he left my needles deep inside

His joking heart.  An autopsy was done.

      

   IV



I'd read to him at night. His horoscope,

The New York Times, The Advocate;

Some lines by Richard Howard gave us hope.

A quiet hospital is infinite,

The polished, ice-white floors, the darkened halls

That lead to almost anywhere, to death

Or ghostly, lighted Coke machines.  I call

To him one night, at home, asleep.  His breath,

I dreamed, had filled my lungs--his lips, my lips

Had touched.  I felt as though I'd touched a shrine.

Not disrespectfully, but in some lapse

Of concentration.  In a mirror shines



The distant moon.