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Michael Hollingworth

Professor Lisa Orta

English 123

14 February 2017

Loves Torment

4AM by Gil Cuadros is the fifth poem in a cycle of six which looks at a gay couple and

their relationship as one of them suffers from AIDS. In 4AM, John dies, and we see the

narrators reaction to his death. As opposed to the poem before, where the perspective felt more

zoomed out on the timescale, in this poem, the viewpoint is very zoomed in, and from start to

finish, it spans only a few hours. The major selling point of this poem for me is the way its

dramatic imagery paints a vivid image of love at its most tormenting point death. This poem

really connected with me on an emotional level as it made me consider my own significant other

and how traumatizing it would be to lose her.

In the beginning of the poem, the first image we are presented with is one of despair. I

slept in my shirt, smelled of sweat, drenched the bed (1-2). Anybody who has experienced the

crushing feeling of complete and utter despair knows that the ultimate place of refuge is bed.

Going a step further, those who have experienced despair and dread enough to break out

sweating will understand even further the message that Cuadros sends through these opening

lines. The narrator has that feeling in his gut that just tightens and tightens, and an immense

weight presses down on him, rendering him unable to move. I have experienced all the above, in

the context of concern for the health of my significant other, so when Cuadros opened the poem

with those lines, it instantly got my attention, the way a slap to the face would.
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As we progress through the poem, the phone drags the narrator out of bed, and he

receives the dreaded news, You better come over right away, with a friend, dont hesitate, dont

drive yourself, promise me that. And I did (12-14). For me, that simple dialogue carried a lot of

weight behind it. I can very easily imagine the sinking feeling that the narrator must have had at

this moment, and the sensation of coldness, disjointedness with the world. At this point, the

narrator knew, and I knew John was in the final stage. Fortunately, I have never experienced

anything related to my significant other of such magnitude, but I have been in similar situations

where the news just does not make things any better.

Skipping ahead in the poem to the next phone call, this is where I think the narrator is

dealt the final blow. John passed away at five minutes till four (37-38). This line itself does not

carry that much weight, but it is the narrators reaction in what follows that hits hard. I told her

no ... Damn it you're wrong, he can't be dead (38, 40). Dialogue on its own might not contain

much imagery, but the meaning behind these few lines does. They paint a picture of the killing

strike hitting the narrator, right across his jugular. It is the blow that he just cannot comprehend.

After all this time, it is over. John has passed. I have been fortunate enough in my life not to lose

anybody I knew well to death, but I have lost a very dear pet to death, and while I dare not even

compare the death of a pet to the death of a person, the death of said pet traumatized me when I

was younger, and even now I still can recall with utter precision the circumstances and details of

its death. If a pet caused me such grief when I was a child, I can only imagine the complete and

utter way the narrator is stricken after this news.

What follows the phone call is an image of utter despair and despondence, which leads

into grief-fueled rage and the need to feel something. I felt my blood become glass, my

hands breaking my fall (44-45). This is defeat, and it is something I have felt a countless
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number of times in my life. Not all of them to this degree, but I certainly have reached a point

where the shock was just too much to bear standing, and I had to sink to the ground for stability.

I knocked the ceramic birds off a shelf, smashed my face into the doorjamb, again and again

(47-48). The first part of this sentence shows the narrator fighting back against the

overwhelming impotence that he feels. He does this by destroying something that he can destroy:

the ceramic birds. Anybody who has ever been placed in a situation where they feel completely

powerless will understand how maddening it is and how there needs to be some form of control

somewhere. I, too, have broken things when in a stage like this, so the narrators actions are very

understandable. In the final part of this sentence, the narrator inflicts physical pain on himself.

This is the rebound to that action against impotence. Destroying something never grants the

respite needed from the sense of helplessness, because inside is simply hollow. So the narrator

resorts to external pain to overcome the immense and overwhelming flood that is coming.

In the final line, the flood hits. 4AM sharp and I began to howl (54). In using this as the

conclusion of 4AM Cuadros took me on a journey from despair to complete grief. This

downward trajectory of tragedy left me thoughtful and, to be honest, slightly depressed. I

couldnt help but think about what I would feel if my girlfriend and I were placed in the same

situation. The horrors described in this poem are something nobody should have to experience,

and though I personally do not agree with gay union, since I am a Christian, it was still easy for

me to empathize with the narrator and understand the story he was telling about love.
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Works Cited

Cuadros, Gil. 5. 4AM. City of God. San Francisco, CA, City Lights, 1994.