Disproportionate
for Keith Haring’s Untitled (Dance), 1987
by Shade
Our club was built on 44th,
to the right of the alleyway
where adolescent blood
bound friendships hours before
women made ends meet
with their womanhood.
When the epidemic sunk its teeth
into this barbarous city,
years later,
other sinners’ sins were forgiven,
then we became the scapegoat.
Before newspaper headlines
reported the deaths of thousands,
threats were bandaged on our window,
slurs spat on our faces—
They must’ve thought
the virus was transmitted through kindness,
so hatred was their prevention
and pop our medicine.
‘Cause we never did stop dancing
under the blinding lights,
even when 112 occupants became 78,
and 78 dropped to 36,
‘til 36 was 5 blistering bodies
pacing themselves with the record’s rotation.