Cleo Henry


A particular intimacy

I was burst from my father’s head
fully armed
It was Nottingham
Hottest night in years
And I burst out blood everywhere
Midwife said I’d be famous
Her own baby was dead
Or stolen

My mother made jewellery
And I never wore it
I was welded into her thigh
Probably
Warm and impatient against
The coolness of polished stones

And we watched things change
Women to trees trees to women
Men to flowers

And that’s how it was
And then I came here
Can you believe it
I can’t
Can you believe it

Cleo Henry is a writer and researcher living in London. She is interested in queerness and its interaction with infrastructure, particularly the city and the digital. She has been published in several magazines and periodicals including Angry Old Man Magazine, The Upcoming, and the Oxford Isis.
 
 
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