Today's poem is by Denise Duhamel

The West Village
       

Halloween, 1984. I find a pink prom dress at Goodwill, cover it
with pig's blood (i.e. Caro syrup and red dye #5). Michael
dresses in all black so he'll disappear, aims his flashlight
on me while carrying his boom box, the speakers amped up
with Piper Laurie's plea They're all gonna laugh at you!
on a loop. It takes Michael over an hour to record her voice
from his VHS tape onto a cassette. Record, rewind, record,
rewind. I remind him I always want to be the one
to make fun of myself first—while embracing Stephen King's
feminist icon, while flaunting my own dirty pillows.
Drag queens, kids on stilts, and werewolves wave, appreciate
our artistry. The next day I can't wash off the blood which stains
my face and neck like dots of sarcoma. I go to work anyway
not knowing enough to be afraid. Rock Hudson is still alive—
it'll be another a year before he (or any of our friends) die of AIDS.

Tweet
Copyright © 2024 Denise Duhamel All rights reserved
from Bennington Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission