A prominent billboard down the street from my gallery had a horrific piece of hate speech on it, bright pink for all to see. It’s location made me feel complicit, thinking about the constantly passing cars made me feel ill, I don’t choose to repeat it or call from the void the name of the wretched organization but it was deeply racist, Islamophobic, and violent. Every time I passed it I felt more confused and outraged, How dare they post such horrid things so publicly? Such a big bright sign which they clearly paid mightily for, so high up, impossible to reach.
It was a blustery evening when walking to the gallery, instead of that sign I saw instead a different image. Two elderly people kissing against a sunset, golden rays emitting around them and in italic cursive “STDs are Timeless”. It was gloriously funny, but made astonishingly beautiful given what it replaced.
When I arrived at the gallery I wrote this poem:
STDs are Timeless by Lane Timothy Speidel
The howling wind keeps me in or
Do you protect me from it, or?
Do I stay inside to be with you
Would it part us should we test it
How long is love
less than time, or isn’t that what it’s made of?
The best viruses are the ones that don’t kill you.
They keep themselves alive — does that mean,
would herpes save your life?
If we — passed it back and fro forever
with mouths made dry forming an impossible lock
around a dark wet tunnel, sewer even?
To what lengths will herpes go to save us
and our love?
Being born of two pressing mucal membranes shouldn’t it stand to benefit
from our coupling.
Would it save us?
And how would it and how
would you know.
Sun sett always
in a throb of gentle articulation.
Our bodies have been stitched in a seam across the horizon.
The pain of the thread has faded long ago and
our throats cage the sun’s gold. So,
it is prevented from moving, although
it does try.
Share this post