Honey & Asking For It| Meggie Royer

Editor’s note: I’ve decided to group these two poems because they respond well to each other. Be aware that there seems to be a theme of sexual assault/abuse.

Honey
Honey let us take you home tonight
so we can rob you of your arms and then put them on again
backwards so you’ll always remember that we
are the ones who hold all the power, honey let me tap that ass,


let me be the one to put the river inside you
the bruise inside your blood
Honey let me get some of that skin and I’ll never bother you again
I’ll love you like salt, like a bird in the throat of a wolf,
I’ll make you howl banshee, howl broken tooth,
yeah listen this is gonna be your demolition,
I know you know there’ll be blood on the sheets
when I’m done with you, honey please just once,
can’t you see I need this,
got this compass, this polestar that’s spinning
and you’re the only one who can reverse the needle
God honey you’re fucking gorgeous
but you’re just a body
and you won’t ever be more than that
I’ll leave you gutted like a piano with the strings torn out
Just one kiss can’t you spare that for me?
Hey honey, why you crying?
I didn’t do a thing wrong

Asking For It
Read Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves and trip over the phrase open sesame,
think about how most days are screwdriver days instead of orange juice days
get up on the wrong side of the bed then fall asleep on the other
and discover it’s the wrong side too, kiss boys who kiss boys who kiss boys
so it doesn’t mean anything. Go to photography class and try not
to attach any alcoholic meaning to the word shots, wake up covered in salt
and forget whether it’s from sweat or crying
Go to museums with axes stuck in redwood logs thousands of years old
to remember what being stabbed in the back feels like. Kiss boys
who kiss girls who kiss boys who kiss boys who kiss you
only when they’re drunk. Blow smoke rings at the moon and try
to get the circles to be its exact same size, wreath it in soft grey
then watch as it slowly disappears into dawn.
Fuck shit up then fuck shit up again
Wear bruises like loose teeth & bake cakes
for every anniversary of the night you crawled out alive
Try to pretend crawling out alive
is better than the alternative, spill your guts
to people who ask you to put them back in your stomach
like this is the kind of thing that can be stitched up
Be lonely and longing and lone and losing and lost
Break down and break up
with people who act like what happened to you
is something you wanted
or what you deserve.

—–

Meggie Royer is a writer and photographer from the Midwest who is currently majoring in Psychology at Macalester College. Her poetry has been published in Harpoon Review, Words Dance Magazine, Winter Tangerine Review, and more. She also has two published poetry books, Survival Songs and Healing Old Wounds with New Stitches. Her work can be found at writingsforwinter.tumblr.com.

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Vagabond City Literary Journal

Founded in 2013, we are a literary journal dedicated to publishing outsider literature. We publish art, poetry, and creative nonfiction from marginalized creators.

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