Ode to My Lover

Don’t forgive me
for laughing

when you confessed
months after Matthew

Shepard died
that you yourself

had once been gay-
bashed in the back

parking lot
of a 7-11. It didn’t

seem like that big
of a deal. No

permanent injuries.
You told the story

right after we made
love so it felt

like an excuse
to make me

hold you a bit
longer when I wanted

to go to bed, or find
someone else

on the Internet. Did you
ever think of Matthew

when I was
sucking your cock,


not being very careful
with my teeth? I am

not always nice. Once
I cheated on you

with a trick
who was pretty

much forgettable
except for his porn

stash I “accidentally”
found: he cut out

a photo of Aaron
McKinley and taped

his head on the body
of a limp muscle

model. That slut always
wanted things rougher.

“Can’t,” I said, “I save
that kind of stuff

for my boyfriend.” He never
looked angry. Just

docile, needy. A victim
too weak

to hurt.