Disintegrate/Dissociate

Arielle Twist

• Editorial: Arsenal Pulp Press
• Año: 2019
• ISBN:
  9781551527604
• Categoría: Literature
• Categoría: Poetry

In her powerful debut collection of poetry, Arielle Twist unravels the complexities of human relationships after death and metamorphosis. In these spare yet powerful poems, she explores, with both rage and tenderness, the parameters of grief, trauma, displacement, and identity. Weaving together a past made murky by uncertainty and a present which exists in multitudes, Arielle Twist poetically navigates through what it means to be an Indigenous trans woman, discovering the possibilities of a hopeful future and a transcendent, beautiful path to regaining softness.

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Date #1

I gave you head after we finished our drinks

saliva

on

salt

on

skin

I was eager to please a stranger in the dark

messy room, cramped couch.

You reached for the never-ending space

between my legs and I pulled away,

Don’t

Do

That

I said, and you finished in my mouth.

I Am the Boundless Space between Oceans of Water and Wheat

I.

Kokum,

can I tell you

that this land feels like a dream?

Something    untouched

by my skin

though she birthed me

beneath her fields   flowers and grass.

These memories feel like they’re pulled

from pasts I absorbed through my leaves

a sort of photograph derived through photosynthesis

where you are the sun

      the water

      the air.

Kokum,

can I say

I can’t recognize her face?

But maybe my body can recall

how her curves rocked me

       to sleep?

That I dreamt of

myself wearing a yellow gown

dancing through her canola?

That I can see her ghost in Gordons,

waving goodbye

the first time    the last time.

Kokum, did I ever tell you—

the two places I slept best

were next to you

and next to her?

II.

Nana,

Can I call you Migiju? Can I speak Mi’kmaq?

Because even with this twisted Cree tongue,

I sang a song when you passed.

I don’t know the words,

but the beat is a memory

your son taught me

to sing.

So, I will sing.

I will sing to the birch trees,

watch their skin   peel

in        January.

Feel my skin    sliding,

waiting  for   it

to     fall off too.

I will sing to the brook,

vocalize stories shared

of a childhood, jumping

into her.   A childhood

wishing   I knew more.

Migiju, as I speak in Mi’kmaq

and cry in Cree—

can you forgive me?

While

It’s been a while

since a calm rushed

against my palms.

The relaxation of reflection

unwinding of my mind

in sync with the movement of

fingers that lay

next to your fist.

Since such ease has graced these

salty,   swollen lips.

The way I gape my jaw

to let     you enter

throat becoming rusted,

losing vocabulary,

and how I let a  man

into the revolving door

once   used as legs,

bucking along  keeping tempo.

Will you fuck me into

divinity   Daddy?

It’s been a while.

MANIFEST

For Billy

I think I want us to be forever

’cause the cultivation of this craft

has asked of us to bear children we did not want

to crack open our chests for an audience

gazing into the veins of each other’s worlds

wondering how this ecology survives.

I like to think it lives in swamps

the bogs I grew up on the wetlands

that keep my lungs dripping in melodrama

how sometimes, when I feel emotions,

I can’t tell if I am drowning or if I’m too full

of a divisive or maybe indecisive

way of being. That if this body

is up for grabs, under scrutiny,

fill it with flowers, gold and pearls

so, m...

Índice

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• Prelude
• Dear White, Cis Men
• D/ream Me
• Arsonist
• Prairie Beneficiary
• Not That Girl
• Child
• Reckless
• Under Uprooted Trees
• Vacant
• C(um) Etiquette
• Cold
• The Girls
• In Dying I Become
• Brother
• Berries
• Residential
• Chords
• Rain
• Mother/Creator
• Bear
• Who Will Save You Now?
• Is This My Home?
• Born in Mourning
• Newfoundland
• Date #1
• I Am the Boundless Space between Oceans of Water and Wheat
• While
• Manifest
• Silent
• Constellations
• Fall/Spring
• Waves and Glass
• Date #2
• Claws
• Rework
• Iskwêw
• Oscana
• Acknowledgments