Alana Hayes
Alana in America
Did someone order the offering?
Sweet thing on the table?
Do you eat much like me?
Dessert. Deadly Delicious.
Always cooked flambé, I end in fire.
Where do you go?
And no it’s not the “good kind,”
it’s always been destructive in here.
I am a chopped down tree,
if I scream, and no one will listen,
did I make a sound?
When you burn me do your taste buds come to life?
Is it like religion was born in your mouth?
Does all that power feel good,
or did it singe your tongue on the way out?
Did God speak there when you decided it was okay to take things from me?
Call my body, not my body,
not mine to know what’s best to do with,
big brother knows better.
Sweet Street Meat
whistle my way
because this dress means I want it.
Catcall me
“Damn, baby!”
because These Jeans Means I want it.
And we’re still arguing about my body like it’s up for auction,
but when has it ever been?
I was never asked if I wanted to be put on display and argued over.
Fair enough to fetch a price,
so fair we offer her up to King Kong,
because what’s the difference between what an ape the size of Godzilla,
and a man will do to you, sweetie?
Either way, you’re the dinner plate,
and he’s preying on you tonight.
So cut me into pieces Sweeney Todd style, and call me candy,
these people don’t even know they’re consuming a corrupted image of womanhood.
Sweetheart, you’ll never be this perfect, and that
is how we keep you in line, so fall there.
And if you scream, and no one is listening,
did you make a sound?
Alana Hayes has a poem forthcoming in Night Music. She is a graduate of the University of Maryland, Baltimore County, where she received a BA in English Literature and another in Women and Gender Studies. Her poetry revolves around themes of Judaism, feminism, and social justice issues. Follow her on Instagram @womanasriot.
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