jacklyn henry is a transfeminine genderqueer writer based in the hell that is Los Angeles. when not searching for the perfect pina colada, jacklyn finds time to write ribald tales of love and woe, pain and power, and men that do her wrong. she has found success at: bare back magazine, alice says go fuck yourself, flying dodo, H S T, pink disco, wicked gay ways, fifth wheel, cream scene carnival, and elsewhere.

scars & lies

i will never convince you of innocence –
impurity and lust vibrate through my veins –
there are no stones in my pockets, not anymore - 
i am not without sin but i rarely know when to stop -

i cannot take back a vainglorious past & w/hold those steps i took -
invisible lines,
visible lines,
scars & lies -

i sit in shadows -
silent -
watching a world twist & squirm under a damning light of discovery & truth -

disillusion

he kisses me hard and i can taste his day.
i part from his lips, offer him a tic tac.

we talk plainly about our work week and
disrobe almost without interest, our cheating

moments turned into routine. even the desk clerk
at the Hampton Inn, the one off the Interstate,

not downtown, knows us by name and is no longer
curious about the very tall woman and an average height

man. i get to my knees to provide stimulation, but his
ugly man parts do not cooperate. he isn’t that old.

just after 12 pm and i am hungry. lunch might be nice
and he nods. he holds my chair at a restaurant next door

to the Hampton Inn. i order a salad, he orders a burger 
with tater totes. we talk plainly about our work week

and i wonder aloud when we became an old married couple.
and he just nods without really understanding.