Denise R. Weuve

Ink Damage and Other Permanent Stains

Carnival + Museum + Poetry = PUBLISHED

In November of 2011 I enjoyed an evening at the Museum of Latin American Art with a friend.  It was an insane evening.  He made me wait 2 hours.  Actually an hour and forty-five minutes, after telling me earlier in the day that we could not have out normal marathon outings.  It was to be the museum and only the museum.  When he finally picked me up in his Navigator, that had no air conditioning, we headed towards 2nd street, slightly out-of-the-way, because he had to run an errand and he said, “this must tell you how much I trust you.  I wouldn’t just do this with anyone.”   I had trained him to know that anything he wanted I would say yes to, even though he had no idea that I wanted to ask him to stop seeing me at work and outside of work for that matter.  The games, the uncertainty, the “let’s play it by ear”, the yes’s and no’s of it all had taken its toll.  And this day was not changing my mind.

At the corner of Pacific Coast Hwy and 2nd street as we waited to make a right a bicyclist came up to the my side of the car window and asked for a donation.  She was doing a charity ride as a fundraiser.  He had me look in the center cubby for dollars but there was none so he grabbed a $5 bill and told me to hand it to her.  As I took the five from his hand and gave it to the woman I knew I wouldn’t say a damn word to him.  

I never ever say no to a person asking for alms, due to Walt Whitman “Give alms to all who ask”.  A person who does not when they can, is an immediate goodbye to me.  He had linked into a value that I believe defines the core of a man. and when she handed me back a crochetted AIDS ribbon magnet her mother made it simple confirmed everything I planned to say,  I would continue to not say.  And I even knew that would mean he was noe allowed to continue destroying me.  Slowly, in nibble sized pieces.

At the museum there was a work that had a woman who was disconnected at the joints.  the writing that outlined her shaped said, “Aquella mujer bella que un loco por odio destruyo” and he translated it for me.  The irony stunned me.  So he took a picture and sent it to me, and I wrote, as I always do, “Out of Hate“.  As the cycle goes, I now have the great privledge to see this poem up on the Carnival Literary Magazine Website as part of their Sneek Peek for their next issue.  You really should follow Carnival on facebook.  The work on this site is always amazing.


So that day gave me a ribbon, a poem, & him. He stays in my life, because I want it.  Some days more damagingly than others, but my choice.

Picture 2

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