This Story
Kaylin Kaupish
This story needs to be told
I was sitting near the Stonewall with flowers
In my lap waiting to lay them down when
Suddenly this story fell into my lap as well
She wore hot pink had long blonde hair
The lines by her eyes so defined like canyons
Whether from weather or worry I could not
Tell her age but she told me how the people died
On the street in the hundreds right before her eyes
They said there was a cure but they didn’t mean for us
She tells me that her friend died on New Year’s Eve
Her friend called her up and said Take me dancing
Dress me up in a big beautiful dress I wanna dance tonight
They danced all night and afterward they left the club
Sat on the curb breathing heavy and dripping in sweat
She said her friend’s mascara was running and she laid
Her head on her shoulder and She died right there
Kaylin Kaupish grew up in Richmond, Virginia. She attended Virginia Commonwealth University and received her Bachelor’s degree in English with minors in Writing and Italian Studies. She was executive editor for the university literary magazine, Amendment and interned for Blackbird, an online literary journal. Her writing focuses on the city of her childhood, sibling relationships, and the juxtaposition of nature within the urban environment. Her work has appeared in Quail Bell Magazine, Focus Camera’s Wavelength, Angels on Earth, Mysterious Ways, New York Film Academy, and Minetta Review. Kaylin lives in Brooklyn.
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Here is today’s prompt
(optional as always)
Today’s poem recounts a tale told to the speaker by a passerby in a gay neighborhood in New York City. Write a poem in which a person who has experienced HIV/AIDS firsthand tells their story to another person who reports it to the reader. Speaker and informant may be real or imagined.