When the Storytellers Found Me, and: A Knowing as I Imagined It
- When the Storytellers Found Me, and: A Knowing as I Imagined It
When the Storytellers Found Me
Most nights I don't think of it,the blood on my teeth,
my white dress, stainedwith soot and wet grass,
how the mud hugged my feetlike bedroom slippers.
I hid in the bush untilthe storytellers found me.
They relish the music of split-open things,stretched my skin into a drum
until I sounded like hollowed fruit.As they stretched and hammered my skin,
I smelled the man—crushednutmeg in castor oil.
The first time God pulledme into a body, I imaginedmyself a fruit,
soft and spilling. [End Page 69] What if I am also the seed,hard white knot of a mango,when aimed can wound.
Beat this dumb drum,beat this troubled song:
my skin, I painted red with clay,my hair, I laced with lavender.
Even when the man hurt me,my body could not forgetawakening.
I returned to rip the sunout of his window.
We pitched forward in the dark;he had the knife,I was the ramundoing him with my teeth,our desecration darkeninghis fingertips.
Each time I offered my body,he grew a vision—a rain tree,the sky aflame,children,burning. [End Page 70]
A Knowing as I Imagined It
We learn the weight of our bodies,you on top of me, your handsflailing in my face, then I on you,gripping the wrists of your clenched fists.We learn our rage and our want—to be Papa's little girl, little one,to edge the distance between us that loomsin the half before sister. We've never huggedor held hands, slept shoulder to shoulderin the same bed. How close we are now,I tug the curly tendrils of your hair,you inhale my bubble-gum scented breath.We collapse next to each other in the grass,our faces turned towards the sky.We think of our mothers, sisterswho hurt each other because of Papa.We think of their need for our loyalty,adjust our knee-high white socks,retie each other's ribbons. Walkin opposite directions towards our homes.Your hair is as soft as I imagined it. [End Page 71]
Catherine-Esther Cowie is from the Caribbean island of St. Lucia and has lived in Canada and the US. She is a graduate of the Pacific University low-residency mfa program. Her writing has appeared in The Common, Poetry South, SWWIM, Potomac Review, Southern Humanities Review with other work forthcoming in West Branch Journal, TriQuarterly and RHINO Poetry. Catherine-Esther Cowie's work has been nominated for an awp Intro Journal award, a Pushcart prize, and Best New Poets 2018 and 2019.
