Cyree Jarelle Johnson

Nov 9, 2023 | clubcurran.com | Cyree Jarelle Johnson |Tommy Dorfman |Georgia. Dorfman

The wind, gusty and frenetic, like a bullish pigeon, breaks on my newly buzzed head sending chills down my body. When they asked me what I wanted at the barber shop in Amagansett I just showed them that photo of Britney Spears, courageous and feisty. I wanted to channel her fuck-you rage and I needed my strands of hair that carried a decade of drug abuse gone.

Nov 9, 2023 | clubcurran.com | Tommy Dorfman |Cyree Jarelle Johnson |GodBy Tommy Dorfman

Hundreds, if not thousands, of people defend their right to body sovereignty each day. I salute them all. Rarely, though, do we get to witness collective self-defense. The joy and power the fighters’ courage enlivened gives me hope that America is about to slide into a Tower moment. The Tower, the sixteenth card in tarot, is rightfully the most feared in the deck. Accidents happen under The Tower’s influence. It brings sudden destruction. But destruction for whom?

Aug 7, 2023 | guernicamag.com | Cyree Jarelle Johnson

The summers swole me: knuckles first, then wrists right down to the elbows. My family there — richer, unknown to me, and queerly religious. Megachurchparishioners. Gossips. Voices cantering through the dark with emphatic lilt. Porch light interrupted only by the salt-sweet of the bread factory and waterbugs churning out steady as if made by the trees. One aunt kind, the otherqueer. Religious. House empty of all but lizards and an open bible. Diet allraw. In long skirts and sleeves in heat that swole me.

Aug 7, 2023 | scribd.com | Cyree Jarelle Johnson

Photo by Nikko Tan / Pexels The summers swole me: knuckles first, then wrists right down to the elbows. My family thereparishioners. Gossips. Voices cantering through the dark with emphatic lilt. Porch light interrupted only by the salt-sweet of the bread factory and waterbugs churning out steady as if made by the trees. One aunt kind, the otherqueer. Religious. House empty of all but lizards and an open bible. Diet allraw. In long skirts and sleeves in heat that swole me.

Jun 14, 2023 | yalereview.org | Cyree Jarelle Johnson

What song to sing in tired times as nowwhen new-sprung shoots are crushed beneath the heelsof time, before they grow? Blossom snipped lowby fate’s callous blade. How that sorrow feels like opening to the pain of the world. Wholed by a light at the snuff of your day,the end to a story impeccably told. Though now we must trudge an opposite waystay close to us. The ones we love who’ve goneon to glory, or horror, or nothing—all linked, ever in memory.