My Avatar (aka afab perpetrates heteronormative relationship)
By J Brooke
My boyfriend used to complain I shed
all over his sweaters. Miles of my hair
brown strands slough without consent
adhering to him, and clinging fast as I
could not. The sinews of my love held
tight not to him and not to his beloved
two-ply Brooks Brothers’ crew necks I
would steal and sleep within (lying not
entirely when claiming the softness so
elicited dreams I could not resist), only
omitting what became of my boyfriend
in my dreams. Not absent but present,
embodied by me, his nighttime avatar
floating through the world as I wished
to— hands casual in khaki pockets my
cologne, loafers, walk, talk, watch, just
the way I was born to embody, me just
the way I was born… like my boyfriend
only better. He would wrap scotch tape
around his hand, a tight concentric coil
of stickiness he engaged methodically
from left to right, patting himself top to
bottom, pressing homemade lint brush
to perform this preposterous display—
self-flagellation— a desperate pledge
of allegiance unable to locate the heart.
I told my boyfriend I loved him only when
he told me first. I did love witnessing him
treat my loosened locks like alien detritus,
like evidence, as if he were in on the secret.
We love how these two images wend us through the poem: the soughed hair clinging to a boyfriend’s sweater, and the avatar offered by the sweater itself. Brooke moves us across this landscape of remnant presences, fluent dreaming, and secrets the self builds a world for: what is cast off, and what is taken on; what has always been true, what needed to be dreamed into existence.
We love the way the speaker crafts the physical reality “just / the way I was born to embody, me just / the way I was born… like my boyfriend /only better.” Notice the play between the enjambed and resolved lines. How the lines dance between four and five stresses, and make use of the tight, consistent column of couplets to balance tension and patience on the page.
And we love this ending so: “I did love witnessing him / treat my loosened locks like alien detritus, / like evidence, as if he were in on the secret.” And then there is the tightness of the line, the wry hilarity that is this poem’s tonal undercarriage, and that distant affection paid to the subject of the boyfriend.
Claiming the sweater, and thereby wearing the hide of this boyfriend so as to “perpetuate” the “heteronormative” partnership, the speaker observes the relationship in retrospect as one might animals in a simulated habitat. Brooke lavishes exquisite attention on the mundane, on the oddly intimate act of the boyfriend wrapping his hand with scotch tape, a sort of hand-crafted lint roller, to lift the speaker’s hair strands off of his body.
About
Awards
Columbia Journal: First Place Winner, 2020 Nonfiction Award for autobiographical essay “HYBRID”
Beyond Words Literary Magazine: Winner, 2020 Dream Challenge “Kaden has Covid”
The Maine Review: Hon. Mention, 2021 Embody Award for essay “HIDEOUS”
Sunspot Lit: Finalist, 2020 Inception Contest Flash Fiction “Before and After”
Streetlight Magazine: Hon. Mention, 2020 Essay Contest “Finding Barbie’s Shoes”
Gival Press: Finalist, Oscar Wilde Award 2021 for poem “Self-Portrait at Age 9 as Albert Cashier”
Craft Literary: Hon. Mention, 2021 Flash Fiction Award
North American Review: Finalist, 2020 Kurt Vonnegut Prize
Get in Touch
Recent Work
The First Time I Consider Ending My Life I Am Four – Room Magazine
The Day After Wikipedia Still Lists Her in Present Tense – The Southampton Review
The Name Dropper – The Maine Review
My Earliest Self is a Boy… – Electric Lit
T – The Rumpus
Denny and Me – Passengers Journal
Small-Town Nonsense – The East Hampton Star
A Conversation with Morgan Talty – The Rumpus
My Avatar (aka afab perpetrates heteronormative relationship) – Holy Gossip
What Goes Around – EAST Magazine
The Liar – The Normal School
I Drew a House – The Rumpus
More
HYBRID – Columbia Journal
Blended Family – The Southampton Review
There are No Baked Potato Chips in Palm Beach – Dash Literary Journal
Last Night I Dreamed My Mother Was Carl Reiner and I Was Sad She Died – Bangalore Review
Time Will Tell – The Fiddlehead (Excerpted from Winter 2023 Print Journal)
Parallel Family – Harvard Review
Finding Barbie’s Shoes – Streetlight Magazine
Deformed – RFD Magazine
#2486 – The Southampton Review
On Drinking – Stonecoast Review
My Last Dress – The Sun Magazine
Reviews and Interviews
Misperceptions, Assumptions, and Slurs: Jackie Domenus's No Offense – The Rumpus
A Conversation with Morgan Talty – The Rumpus
Naming Stars: An Interview with Andrés N. Ordorica – The Massachusetts Review
Interview by J Brooke of Hotel Cuba’s author Aaron Hamburger – Streetlight Magazine
J Brooke’s Reading Recommendations – The Fiddlehead
Two New Series Bravely Lose The Labels – Incluvie Film Review
Review of Melissa Febos’ Girlhood – Glint Journal
Review of Susan Conley’s Landslide – Streetlight Magazine
Interview with Massachusetts Review
Interview with Stonecoast Review
My Avatar (aka afab perpetrates heteronormative relationship)
By J Brooke
My boyfriend used to complain I shed
all over his sweaters. Miles of my hair
brown strands slough without consent
adhering to him, and clinging fast as I
could not. The sinews of my love held
tight not to him and not to his beloved
two-ply Brooks Brothers’ crew necks I
would steal and sleep within (lying not
entirely when claiming the softness so
elicited dreams I could not resist), only
omitting what became of my boyfriend
in my dreams. Not absent but present,
embodied by me, his nighttime avatar
floating through the world as I wished
to— hands casual in khaki pockets my
cologne, loafers, walk, talk, watch, just
the way I was born to embody, me just
the way I was born… like my boyfriend
only better. He would wrap scotch tape
around his hand, a tight concentric coil
of stickiness he engaged methodically
from left to right, patting himself top to
bottom, pressing homemade lint brush
to perform this preposterous display—
self-flagellation— a desperate pledge
of allegiance unable to locate the heart.
I told my boyfriend I loved him only when
he told me first. I did love witnessing him
treat my loosened locks like alien detritus,
like evidence, as if he were in on the secret.
We love how these two images wend us through the poem: the soughed hair clinging to a boyfriend’s sweater, and the avatar offered by the sweater itself. Brooke moves us across this landscape of remnant presences, fluent dreaming, and secrets the self builds a world for: what is cast off, and what is taken on; what has always been true, what needed to be dreamed into existence.
We love the way the speaker crafts the physical reality “just / the way I was born to embody, me just / the way I was born… like my boyfriend /only better.” Notice the play between the enjambed and resolved lines. How the lines dance between four and five stresses, and make use of the tight, consistent column of couplets to balance tension and patience on the page.
And we love this ending so: “I did love witnessing him / treat my loosened locks like alien detritus, / like evidence, as if he were in on the secret.” And then there is the tightness of the line, the wry hilarity that is this poem’s tonal undercarriage, and that distant affection paid to the subject of the boyfriend.
Claiming the sweater, and thereby wearing the hide of this boyfriend so as to “perpetuate” the “heteronormative” partnership, the speaker observes the relationship in retrospect as one might animals in a simulated habitat. Brooke lavishes exquisite attention on the mundane, on the oddly intimate act of the boyfriend wrapping his hand with scotch tape, a sort of hand-crafted lint roller, to lift the speaker’s hair strands off of his body.
Recent Work
The First Time I Consider Ending My Life I Am Four – Room Magazine
The Day After Wikipedia Still Lists Her in Present Tense – The Southampton Review
The Name Dropper – The Maine Review
My Earliest Self is a Boy… – Electric Lit
T – The Rumpus
Denny and Me – Passengers Journal
Small-Town Nonsense – The East Hampton Star
A Conversation with Morgan Talty – The Rumpus
My Avatar (aka afab perpetrates heteronormative relationship) – Holy Gossip
What Goes Around – EAST Magazine
The Liar – The Normal School
I Drew a House – The Rumpus
More
HYBRID – Columbia Journal
Blended Family – The Southampton Review
There are No Baked Potato Chips in Palm Beach – Dash Literary Journal
Last Night I Dreamed My Mother Was Carl Reiner and I Was Sad She Died – Bangalore Review
Time Will Tell – The Fiddlehead (Excerpted from Winter 2023 Print Journal)
Parallel Family – Harvard Review
Finding Barbie’s Shoes – Streetlight Magazine
Deformed – RFD Magazine
#2486 – The Southampton Review
On Drinking – Stonecoast Review
My Last Dress – The Sun Magazine
Reviews and Interviews
Misperceptions, Assumptions, and Slurs: Jackie Domenus's No Offense – The Rumpus
A Conversation with Morgan Talty – The Rumpus
Naming Stars: An Interview with Andrés N. Ordorica – The Massachusetts Review
Interview by J Brooke of Hotel Cuba’s author Aaron Hamburger – Streetlight Magazine
J Brooke’s Reading Recommendations – The Fiddlehead
Two New Series Bravely Lose The Labels – Incluvie Film Review
Review of Melissa Febos’ Girlhood – Glint Journal
Review of Susan Conley’s Landslide – Streetlight Magazine
Interview with Massachusetts Review
Interview with Stonecoast Review
About
Awards
Columbia Journal: First Place Winner, 2020 Nonfiction Award for autobiographical essay “HYBRID”
Beyond Words Literary Magazine: Winner, 2020 Dream Challenge “Kaden has Covid”
The Maine Review: Hon. Mention, 2021 Embody Award for essay “HIDEOUS”
Sunspot Lit: Finalist, 2020 Inception Contest Flash Fiction “Before and After”
Streetlight Magazine: Hon. Mention, 2020 Essay Contest “Finding Barbie’s Shoes”
Gival Press: Finalist, Oscar Wilde Award 2021 for poem “Self-Portrait at Age 9 as Albert Cashier”
Craft Literary: Hon. Mention, 2021 Flash Fiction Award
North American Review: Finalist, 2020 Kurt Vonnegut Prize