The Cage

I want this body plastered
on movie posters and
cloistered in the world’s
cloth cages. I want

the world to want me,
no “hairy-scary butch” here,
all bloat all protrusion
all weight of this queer skin

vanished like a breath.
Cashed in, zeroed out, I am
a gambler pulling the lever
one more time, praying

for jackpot numbers.
They say every seven years
a body replaces every
cell it has ever known.

Soon I will be born again,
a single solid line.
Sappho will write about
my Gothic spire legs

skimming the heavens.
The world will lay hands on me
the way I hug ceramic
from ethereal marble floors.

 

Amy Lauren Jones

 

 

 

 

Amy Lauren Jones is a graduate music major at Mississippi College, where she received her B.M. with a minor in English in 2015. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Lavender Review, GERM Magazine, Vagabond City, and The Arrowhead. She hopes to pursue a doctorate in music while continuing to write about life in the Deep South.