my man was committed
to an asylum as a child
wild thing fungal
phylum virus
thought they could fix him
that he could be fixed
his sickness too much
too much his diagnoses
drugs & boys & language
& boys & drugs
he was given a pill & made old<
he was made cold in his skin
i try to place myself
inside the conversion clinic
when i touch his back
as he sleeps
baby queer with bangs
hanged like dead men before his face
arms a collision of scissor wars
& o the shower steam that rose behind him
as his man who was also a child
& also committed
entered him for the first time
between the shifts
of the nurses
took him raw in the open stall
with only the salve of soap
between them blood
i enter him like this
brushing the bodies
from his face
tasting the plastic
restraints