I am Born -Early
A collection by Rene´ Pellissier
I am Born -Early
Rene´ Pellissier Chipped Tooth Press 2015
Table of Contents 1. Born–Early 2. Blind Man 3. Father Fist 4. All You Have Wanted 5. Rosary Beads 6. Fish Guts
Born–Early I am born – early see first woman, first man first child. My smaller sister, wants to tell me what I missed. She is born–later, wombed longer has marinated in the origins. slipped older from our mother to be younger in the world. I cannot listen. Too much older too much seeing life to hear where it came from.
1
Blind Man Blind man looks at the ocean, for the first time. She speaks. It looks like tap water tastes when it mixes with bile halfway down your throat. The tips of his toes touch the cold edge. It is angry, reaching out and pulling back over his feet. The sand escapes from underneath. This ground is not honest. He feels the pull against his ankles, angry and alive. They teach children to swim like dead men. Float like they are already it’s victim maybe then it wont drag you under.
2
Father Fist Mother of mine did not know she had been pregnant for eight years. When she left my father his fist was still lodged inside of her body. Knew one day it would need an extra fist formed me for my mother. In defense of her. I grew out from a fist when my mother learned love again. Showed in her body when she knew man wouldn’t hit her. When I came out of my mother. I expected a fight, held my breath and looked at everything. Did not see any signs of the thing my body was made of. Did not know how to breath if I did not need fists.
3
This is All You Have Wanted. You reach out to my hand and pull me onto your lap. Try to pry open my legs with your knees. Try to open my heart with your lips lightly touching the tendons of my neck I want this. My head shakesturns into my neck pushing into your mouth; turns into my hips pressing into yours. I had to get your lips off of my neck kissed you like it was your fault. Kissed more than I should, this is all I have wanted, that I don’t want anymore. I might still love you, but I don’t have to touch you.
4
Rosary Beads I hold rosary beads on my tongue, and hope it counts as a prayer. The beads can remember the words that I have forgotten. I need God to save you because I don’t know how I hope the beads know that too. You don’t need to believe, but I– can return to God, believe enough to save us both.
5
Fish Guts My mother has a dream, each night she imagines that she is down by the docks. She lets large rough men fuck her in ways that she has never been fucked before. When the sun rises to the horizon she is there, waiting for them. Old wet wood meets itself, as dock meets boat, and men meet land. She watches their arms as they lift large loads of fish off of the boat. Watches their arms as they lift her off of her feet and in to a bed that has no sheets. Feels their weight on top of her, hears the rush of air as they smell her body. She smells like morning before one has had a chance to shower, she smells like a woman well loved. Before morning is truly in the air she arrives home. Slips out of her dockyard clothes and back into her bed. She returns to my father smelling of fish guts and men who will not wear a suit to work every day. She returns to my father who does not smell her anymore. In the morning she wakes in her body, and looks to my father. Her body smells like Avon beauty products, and my father does not smell her. She cooks fish for dinner, that she bought prepackaged at the grocery store with a fifteen percent off coupon. He arrives home late, toting a bag filled with fast food burgers, says, “I have provided.” Thinks she is impressed. The bag smells of dripping grease, his tie smells of Mary Kay. She is not. My mother does not tell me about her dreams, but I see it in her eyes when I ask her about my father. She smells for Mary Kay, for fast food grease, tells me he isn’t 6
home when she can’t smell either. This is how marriage is supposed to be. There comes a time when your husband stops smelling you, when he assumes you have stopped smelling him. He comes home, smelling of someone else’s beauty products, thinks you should be impressed that he has come home at all. I do not tell my mother about my dreams, but she can see it in my eyes.
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Rene Pellissier is a Junior Creative Writing major at the New Hampshire Institute of art. Her work has been featured in Insert Lit Mag Here and Ayris, the Literary Arts Journal of the New Hampshire Institute of Art. She writes both poetry and prose, though poetry is currently where her heart is. She grew up in Northern CT and was raised on sarcasm, and alcoholic cherries.
Chipped Tooth Presss is a writing collective which seeks to instill a love of poetry in even the most relentless of naysayers. We seek out work that bares its teeth and artists who are willing to allow it to do so. Find out more about us at chippedtoothpress.tumblr.com Contact us directly at chippedtoothpress@gmail.com