who names you?

by jp thorn

Image credit: Hermann Wittekopf - kmkb on Unsplash

no one calls me john patrick anymore, a title once reserved for scolding & also tenderness. from birth i was reduced to two letters & this suits me, taking up residence within a gray wolf & the alphabet can be howled. out back at the creek i skinned my knees; my mother asks john patrick what happened, he lies about the stolen schnapps. there is no title for isolated experience, just the othering– i’ve enjoyed snow & fire simultaneously, how to explain their coexistence? just give me the benefit of the doubt & i’ll exhaust myself to form the equation. my mother tells john patrick that this is the best way to grow, the trying, expanse into an iron lung. i say: make me over, explain my defects & flaws, do not bury the aftermath of a blizzard w ground tarps, do not try to mend a soggy past into contentment. my mother asks what that word means, i cannot define complacency so i show her a picture of a hermit crab in its shell. she says chris, i mean jp, could you please just try? while my bones know this is unsustainable still i break them into pieces, lay them flat at our feet & say this– this is who i was. now, let’s rename me together.

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jp thorn

jp thorn is a queer, neurodivergent artist raised in & returned to the bible belt. advocate for destigmatization & radically open communication, their work is inspired by humanness, reframing traditionalism, therapeutic processes, unlearning patriarchy, identity, & global patterns. you can find more of their work here