Poetry

A Poem for the Cop Who Asked My Deadname for Money

Your eyes watching, bloodshot in my memory

Logan Silkwood
2 min readJan 18, 2024

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The author has his hair tied back and is sitting in his car, wearing dark sunglasses. He has a serious look on his face and the beginnings of a beard.
Photo of Author

I was kissing him through
the white headlights
of your eyes
watching,
bloodshot
in my memory
of another
Tuesday night,
the last one we’d get.

I ate soul food tonight
and remembered him
needing some kind
of blindness
I’d already forfeited,
the kind of blindness
that leaves blood all over
your safety-belts,
but no official
record of events
that only happened
in hushed nightmares
over and over;
he needed me
to stay
in my lane;
it was my birthday;
he didn’t want to stop
kissing my deadname
for your eyes only.

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Logan Silkwood

I’m a polyamorous, non-binary trans man (he/him). I edit for Queerly Trans, Prism & Pen, Enbyous, and Trans Love & (A)Sexuality. Twitter: @logan_silkwood.