You still sleep with
your bedroom door locked

your front door bolted
and chained as you are

to those memories.
Tonight, you lie awake with

streams of silver from
your lit eyes. He is still

circling just above your head.
Though now, your belly

is thick and full, your lips
moist, your head un-cracked.

You still remember.
The night he raided your

room, sifted the jewel
of your body out of

your blankets.
Stripped you.


Heather Hong is a writer and translator from Maryland. She currently lives in Seoul working on her Master’s in Comparative Literature at Seoul National University. She has participated in various spoken word events. In DC she has performed in the Split this Rock Festival, the Junkyard Ghost Revival and events with Terpoets of UMCP. In Seoul, she has performed in the Encyclopedia Show, the Vagina Monologues and the Wild Women’s Festival among many others. Poets she turns to on tough days are Rachel McKibbens and Billy Collins.