A teardrop hits your hollow face
As I lean forward to say good-bye
Your eyes stare into the next world
Flesh clings to your bones
Of your frail heaving chest
Reminding me of some death camp
From old black and white films
And it occurs to me
That death doesn’t become you

As I look at you lying there
There is an emptiness in me
As though my innards have gone
Replaced with a rising tide
Of curdled lava

You ought to be alive
If everyone in the world
Could see you now
They would agree
This should have never happened
It should not have been ignored
As just a gay man’s disease
Or have the undercurrent of bigotry
That dragged lives into the River Styx

It did though
And you are paying for it
With your life
And your mother’s and father’s
And your ex-wife’s and son’s
We all lost a bit of our lives
Like you did
When your lover died

I don’t want to remember you like this
I’d rather cherish the memories
Of you sashaying your behind
Down the hallway
Saying ‘I loooove chicken!’
Looking over the rim of your glasses
With a snide curl to your lips

I still laugh recalling
When you blurted out
‘If these numbers don’t come out right
This report will be nothing but a fairy tale!’
Then glaring around the office
Daring someone to retort
In the stunned laughing silence

We were only coworkers
You were my boss
Maybe we were friends
While we may not have
Seen eye to eye on many a thing
It was who you were

Another tear drops on your face
I shut my eyes in silent prayer
Asking that your next world
Would not ask such a high price
For love
And grant you the dignity
Of just being you

Dedicated to Gary Rini. A victim of HIV/AIDS

About rokuth

With a few exceptions, all the prose poems I have posted are at least a decade old. A reflection of some of the things I've lived through. New ones seem to be emerging, though... The blogs are more current. Rokuth = Ro(dney) Ku(lanayagam) Th(illiampalam) 'Khanahdhara' is actually a Sci-Fi/Fantasy story I'm working on.
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