PJ Heneghan poetry

 1981 No one will touch you, it’s in your blood like love. A body the weight of a broomstick leaning against a wall; a gust of wind would send you falling to the ground and you would lie there, just lie there, with aching bones in full view through paper skin; crossing over one another like a GRID. Human Immunodeficiency Virus- coughing up daydreams, sweating up hope.   Your lover lays beside you, your name in his mouth and the medical forms. A death sentence bubbling in your stomach. Ripples in the bedsheets are like waves to float on and away, from this dark bedroom Into a place where touch can’t kill you. Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome- crying at the clinic, you will never get married.   Mom and Dad won’t look you in the eyes, this might be the last chance they get to see you, but you are alone in the too-clean hospital, zidovudine for breakfast. The curtain is drawn, and you see the row of beds next to you, ...

  Cattle You said you loved me more than the cattle you raised- We sat on the field As they softly grazed. The mud they had slept in Covered their fur like an embrace.   I offered to help you clean them with the hose- It took 2 minutes to start and soaked through our clothes. We both took a brush and combed through their hair, Like our mothers had done when we were children.   Afterwards, we sat underneath your fathers willow- The leaves fall as a reminder of the time that we borrow. You smiled at me, With teeth as yellow as the harvest moon.   Hoping you would take it, I reached out my hand- Hazel eyes followed my arm Just like I had planned. You placed your fingers in between mine, As careful as herding cattle   The sun starts to set, and the sky begins to burn- You would laugh and say ‘when we die it’ll be our turn.’ I asked to stay the night And you looked at me like I’d slaughtered your cattle. ...