
Dysphoria
by James O’Leary
intimate & bodily history with grief
ultimate & sorrowful position of body
i cannot sleep o ugly a dress or home
could clothe these bones in ghosts
cleft axe of my chin sharp animal nowhere
& ribcage slung hands wrung with good grief
suck blood from monster blood show me where
it hurts i tell the mind doctor my body
yearns with invisible hunger if i could ghost
myself i would & cut unclean stems off an unclean home
heavy-fingered o hunter i cannot go home
but to comely sleep haunted by one dream like a ghost
each time i hear my name it sounds like grief
each time i sound my grief it weeps like body
don’t wish between werewolf & woman a want where
all stories decide for me: silver bullets & somewhere
otherwise cured & by moon-smell lured i howl for home
the mind doctor explains what to do eat it my body
whose blue is not calming a drowned state of grief
Adam’s apple’s silent story of Eden that ghost
& if i call it a snake will you believe in hosts
haunted & flaunting my where becomes wear
& did that pomegranate taste like rib or grief
i cannot sleep o doctor in this flesh-funeral home
i don’t know how to human much less embody
more than my blood dead or living or voice disembodied
i am only myself listening to their own ghost
& i cannot dream off these monsters i wear
my want is gentle genesis gay home
my life half-unlived leaves a walking dreamless grief
until home is remade this sleep stained with grief
can be seen no body is dirty my ghost
beauty this soft invisible haunting i wear
James O’Leary (they/them) is a bi, gender-fluid poet and writer from Arizona. After spending some time up and down their home state, James has currently relocated to New York City, where they are pursuing an MFA at Sarah Lawrence College and will graduate in May 2021. James’s work has appeared in such places as Frontier, HAD, The Indianapolis Review, and Kissing Dynamite, where their work was nominated for the Pushcart Prize. You can find James on Twitter @thesundaypoet