Meg Ford
Watching Drew Barrymore Die
A gathering of girls who know how to run is called a Scream.
They did just like he wanted.
A friend's father leapt through the living room window--
rubber mask
black hood horror.
They locked you out of the bedroom,
a single scared
trapped bird
corner baby
scream.
Let him menace close.
Foolish.
Beat him with a trophy til the mask came off red.
Your mother had to apologize
for her daughter, again.
You weren't allowed over for Sunday gravy.
No more red things
for the girl who wouldn't scream.
No one questioned how a man with a mask begged
for horror with his knife
& they still told you to say sorry.
Here is a catalogue for tinder:
The only boy that ever hit you--
after he raped your friend.
The man who followed you in the dark--
after he flashed you.
The friend who hooked you--
in the backyard like a fawn.
Every mouth that has tried to horror you & failed.
The ones that didn't fail.
All red.
All apology.
You watch the movie again.
Drew Barrymore hangs
a blood beaten deer from a tree.
You wonder
what you are supposed to be learning
about being
girl.
A gathering of girls who know how to run is called a Scream.
They did just like he wanted.
A friend's father leapt through the living room window--
rubber mask
black hood horror.
They locked you out of the bedroom,
a single scared
trapped bird
corner baby
scream.
Let him menace close.
Foolish.
Beat him with a trophy til the mask came off red.
Your mother had to apologize
for her daughter, again.
You weren't allowed over for Sunday gravy.
No more red things
for the girl who wouldn't scream.
No one questioned how a man with a mask begged
for horror with his knife
& they still told you to say sorry.
Here is a catalogue for tinder:
The only boy that ever hit you--
after he raped your friend.
The man who followed you in the dark--
after he flashed you.
The friend who hooked you--
in the backyard like a fawn.
Every mouth that has tried to horror you & failed.
The ones that didn't fail.
All red.
All apology.
You watch the movie again.
Drew Barrymore hangs
a blood beaten deer from a tree.
You wonder
what you are supposed to be learning
about being
girl.
In A Galaxy Between Your Thighs
I spent years playing the flute, was in the honor band.
sneakily skipped three levels just so I could play
second chair & sit next to KJ /& her perfect collar bones--
because she asked me to.
The flute plays a special part in the band, you see
it's all about the trill, which is the tongue tapping
against your teeth whistling quick.
My favorite piece was The Star Wars Theme--
because the flute gets all the best parts:
the trill, the lead up, the main theme--
it's all tongue.
The Star Wars Theme is why I am good at eating pussy.
When you are both queer as fuck
& a giant nerd, this is how you survive.
The first girl called me a natural & I flashback
to KJ grinning at me over her music stand,
holding hands in the bathroom,
shoulder to shoulder in the hallways.
No words for what we were, just music.
My Catholic school would hate this poem.
But there we were, two fumbling baby queers
& I wanted to take her to a galaxy far, far—oh you know how it goes.
I spent years playing the flute, was in the honor band.
sneakily skipped three levels just so I could play
second chair & sit next to KJ /& her perfect collar bones--
because she asked me to.
The flute plays a special part in the band, you see
it's all about the trill, which is the tongue tapping
against your teeth whistling quick.
My favorite piece was The Star Wars Theme--
because the flute gets all the best parts:
the trill, the lead up, the main theme--
it's all tongue.
The Star Wars Theme is why I am good at eating pussy.
When you are both queer as fuck
& a giant nerd, this is how you survive.
The first girl called me a natural & I flashback
to KJ grinning at me over her music stand,
holding hands in the bathroom,
shoulder to shoulder in the hallways.
No words for what we were, just music.
My Catholic school would hate this poem.
But there we were, two fumbling baby queers
& I wanted to take her to a galaxy far, far—oh you know how it goes.
Do you know that on the internet you can buy snorkeling devices for this?
It’s a sort of nose plug diving apparatus
which would be helpful for someone burying themselves
inside a Tauntaun on Hoth.
But I guess eating pussy comes with a Surgeon General’s warning:
Not for the selfish, mediocre, or faint of heart.
Yes, it can be that extreme.
If you’re not ok with a little hair in your teeth, then this sport is not for you.
I think back to every boy that made me feel this feast was overrated
Because they were so bad at it I didn’t see the point.
How they’d just sort of—lap at me.
Then I think of her.
I always think of her & how, my
friends, she helped me see the light.
Erased years of orgasmless nights.
This bed can be a holy place after
all, a galaxy full of stars,
an orchestra of Yes.
Yes, we taught this to ourselves.
It’s a sort of nose plug diving apparatus
which would be helpful for someone burying themselves
inside a Tauntaun on Hoth.
But I guess eating pussy comes with a Surgeon General’s warning:
Not for the selfish, mediocre, or faint of heart.
Yes, it can be that extreme.
If you’re not ok with a little hair in your teeth, then this sport is not for you.
I think back to every boy that made me feel this feast was overrated
Because they were so bad at it I didn’t see the point.
How they’d just sort of—lap at me.
Then I think of her.
I always think of her & how, my
friends, she helped me see the light.
Erased years of orgasmless nights.
This bed can be a holy place after
all, a galaxy full of stars,
an orchestra of Yes.
Yes, we taught this to ourselves.
Meg Ford is a queer writer from New Jersey who was voted: Most Likely to Leave and Never Come Back. They are a two-time National Poetry Slam Semi-Finalist with the Boston Poetry Slam team and received their MFA from Emerson College. Their work has previously appeared in The Rumpus, NAILED, and PANK. Meg can most often be found hanging out with the cat at your party.