The third piece about the 80's HIV crisis. It's been weird writing about this stuff and has brought up some awful memories. I guess this can be seen as 'therapy' or 'exorcism,' then. This recounts the moment when my friend Jared returned home after diagnosis. In his mind, he had ceased being human and spent the next few days screaming, crying and destroying pretty much everything in the house.
himanimalwail
I try to be aunty comfort
but he brings out the bells
and the catholic blood
and himanimalwail
himanimalwail
It’s all I can do to decipher
the grunts from the cuts
in his gut and the salt
oceans that rain from
his gopping muzzle
as himanimalwail
himanimalwail
His canine shriek pulls
the shag from the rise
and the tread, wallpaper
from the stud and plaster
and nothing makes sense
so himanimalwail
himanimalwail
when he runs out of breath
and with soft gulps
and glottal clacks
he whispers about how
he ran with the herd,
how he ran when
he heard the three letters
and a crucifix
that now defined him
and himanimalwail
himanimalwail
Soft on my shoulder
he sleeps for a while
but in his dreams
himanimalwail
Will Vigar 
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