I was explaining to him why I disagreed
before he waved away the smoke of my argument
and reminded me that I am “Honey”.
He knows what “Honey” does.
It pours sweetness all over my sharpness,
reminds me that I’ve been taught
to melt easy on the tongue,
to become smooth to digest,
and the “Honey” oozes over my mouth
and sticks my lips together
until I am quiet again.
It makes me forget about the hive in my voice
humming, fully-charged, holding onto its power.
Please call me “Honey” one more time
so I can take a hammer to my throat
and unleash the stingers.
By Roya Backlund
Roya Backlund is a recent graduate of University of California, Irvine with a B.A. in English literature as well as a Los Angeles-based film actress. She has been published at Thistle Magazine, Words Dance Publishing, and will be releasing her first collection of poetry this summer. She is a co-founder of Kings Zine, a literary and artistic collective. More of her writing can be found at bellydancingsmoke.tumblr.com