Three poems by jacklyn henry


he types: 
            so, you’re trans? 
and try to think of something clever 
but i am quite yet 
a stereotype 
he types: 
            wanna cam? 
and i wonder why 
i spend any time 
on line 
sometimes loneliness 
leads you to gay chats 
just as 
sobriety can make you stop 
i smile 
to myself 
as i cut another line 
methamphetamine is  
my co-pilot 
masturbation my religion 
i turn on the cam 
and shyly say, hello

we all have needs
a kiss, a touch
an embrace
something more
than forced innocence
before a primal scream

i hide in painted shadows
deep in expansive closets
waiting for morning
the damning light of day

and when it becomes
more than i can hold
i break, and bend before
a man, accept his moral
credulity with each
cloying thrust

i look up normal
and know
i am not it

my cock tells one story
my heart another

when i lay in his arms
when i am vulnerable
to his desire
i know my truth

when i roar
the wild
of amerika

i no longer
know anything

jacklyn henry (They/them)
j henry is a queer writer surviving the wilds of the high desert while living in the dark shadows of a‭ ‬conformist’s closet‭. ‬when pushing back at every turn‭, ‬j has recent works accepted at‭ ‬Ariel Chart‭, ‬Literary Yard‭, ‬Pure Slush‭, ‬SCAB‭, ‬13‭ ‬Myna Birds‭, ‬and elsewhere‭. ‬a recent poetic memoir‭, ‬DRIVING W/CRAZY‭,‬‭ ‬is now available from‭ ‬‭. ‬for more‭, ‬please go to‬‭.‬