March #45 : Verse: Terminal Girl - by River Huston

POZ - Health, Life and HIV
Subscribe to:
POZ magazine
Join POZ: Facebook MySpace Twitter Pinterest
Tumblr Google+ Flickr MySpace
POZ Personals
Sign In / Join

Back to home » Archives » POZ Magazine issues

Table of Contents

Dog Days in Malibu


Born in Flames

Gay Guru

Soldier of Fortune

Rare Gem

Marathon Man

On the Waterfront

Race With the Angels

Mean Streets


To the Editor

Ticket to Ride

Death by Disclosure

Slip Off the Old Block

Poster of the Month: Ruff Times


Say What

HIV in the Hood

No Brownie Points

Grades for AIDS

French Twist

Southern Discomfort

Sister Act Up

Sister Act Up


POZarazzi: Call It a Day

Verse: Terminal Girl

Primary Concerns


Naming Names

Fast Company

Junk Mail

Life After Legacy

Spin Doctors

PWAs’ Best Friend

What’s Up, Doc?

HIV’s Incredible Endgame

The ABCs of Baby AZT

Hit the Dirt

Selling Sustiva

Publish or Perish

Best of the Rest

Where to Find It

What a Waste

Full Disclosure

People, Their Pets and Pet Peeves

Parental Guidance

Aunt Evelyn's Letters

Most Popular Lessons

The HIV Life Cycle


Herpes Simplex Virus

Syphilis & Neurosyphilis

Treatments for Opportunistic Infections (OIs)

What is AIDS & HIV?

Hepatitis & HIV

email print

March 1999

Verse: Terminal Girl

by River Huston

“That dress fits you well,”
you say,
as you sculpt my right breast
in the earth
with feet
no nails.
“I hope you don’t mind me saying
you look so good in that dress.”

Wet confession
a blur of preconceived sins
a litany
to a downtown beat.
You got me
written all over you,

You sculpt my left breast
nipple erect.

It gets deep.
In English that means
the clay turns red.

You read from a paperback
by the window.
I tell you
how to make me come.

It’s easy, honey,
say you love me.
I don’t care
if you lie.

Bent over
kitchen counter
onions, garlic, peppers
pressed against my belly

I am still chopping
as you call out your wife’s name.
There is no answer.

In a prayer to God
or this hotel room,

I begin a slow
of everything
I have ever done wrong.

The pile by the bathroom
getting bigger,

The lights don’t work here anymore.
I have used up all the cords
and eaten all the sockets.

I dream of suicide parlors,
Civilized and fair.

Believe me,
It’s no great feat
being a terminal girl.

[Go to top]

Facebook Twitter Google+ MySpace YouTube Tumblr Flickr Instagram
Quick Links
Current Issue

HIV Testing
Safer Sex
Find a Date
Newly Diagnosed
HIV 101
Disclosing Your Status
Starting Treatment
Help Paying for Meds
Search for the Cure
POZ Stories
POZ Opinion
POZ Exclusives
Read the Blogs
Visit the Forums
Job Listings
Events Calendar
POZ on Twitter

Ask POZ Pharmacist

Talk to Us
Did you participate in an event for National Black HIV/AIDS Awareness Day 2016?


more surveys
Contact Us
We welcome your comments!
[ about Smart + Strong | about POZ | POZ advisory board | partner links | advertising policy | advertise/contact us | site map]
© 2016 Smart + Strong. All Rights Reserved. Terms of use and Your privacy.
Smart + Strong® is a registered trademark of CDM Publishing, LLC.