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Submission Guidelines: Send 1-3 unpublished poems in the body of an email (NO ATTACHMENTS) to nvneditor[at]gmail.com. No simultaneous submissions. Use "Verse News Submission" as the subject line. Send a brief bio. No payment. Authors retain all rights after 1st-time appearance here. Scroll down the right sidebar for the fine print.
Showing posts with label HIV. Show all posts
Showing posts with label HIV. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 15, 2020

DETACHED

by Mark Ward



There’s that meme of James Franco ‘bout to be
hanged. He smiles, asks “First Time?” The text reads “Gays:”

as if they’re asking the straights now with them
(and of course it’s him, confused peacocking),

referring to both of the viruses
I’m scared of. Their first time to be ignored,

to feel helpless and, literally, alone.
First time kept out of the hospital room,

to be told they have died, second-hand.
It’s not the same though. The world didn’t stop

for us. The summer sun showed thinned-out prides,
detached eyes staring. Now, we’re all locked down,

look at how the world has come together,
look at all we could have achieved back then.


Mark Ward is the author of Circumference (Finishing Line Press, 2018) and Carcass (Seven Kitchens Press), as well as a full-length collection, Nightlight (Salmon Poetry, 2022). He is the founding editor of Impossible Archetype, an international journal of LGBTQ+ poetry, now in its fourth year.

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

ACHING FOR THE GENTLE LIGHT

by Jennifer Lagier


“Columnist George Will thinks that being a rape victim is now a ‘coveted status’ on college campuses.” –The Huffington Post, June 9, 2014. (Image source: Victoria’s Look Into Gender.)


Bethany’s date slipped her
a roofie, tied her up
with her own underwear,
viciously raped her.
She woke up alone,
covered with abrasions,
dried semen, bruises.
Drove herself home,
threw up for hours.
Scrubbed herself raw
in the shower.
Prayed her period
would come, not
HIV or gonorrhea.
Flinched when touched.
Avoided men, even family.
Only felt safe when
among other women.
Couldn’t concentrate
on schoolwork, her job.
Attempted suicide twice.
Lived behind
triple locked doors.
Suffered flashbacks,
night terrors
that lasted forever.


Jennifer Lagier has published eight poetry books and in multiple literary magazines. She taught with California Poets in the Schools and is now a retired college librarian/instructor, member of the Italian American Writers Association, co-edits the Homestead Review, helps coordinate monthly Monterey Bay Poetry Consortium Second Sunday readings.