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Joe,

breathless, eyes cast down,
slides thick words across my desk.

“I think I’m sick—and now
someone has me…knows me.”

i took his words and gave him
mine—

even trade, enough at least to save
face and forget (perhaps) ten dollars

darkly splayed
in naked, hungry eyes

Author notes

Depression. Working on poetry with a young man dying of AIDS.

A contest entry

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Comments


  • second-born
    August 17, 2007

    Edit | Reply
    Wow...this is such a heartfelt poem...the emotions are real...like you know the man personally...good job...