Newfoundland

1.
I often think
about baths
shared together
in distance

songs shared
guitar played
with fingers, you run
through my hair.

Lips dripping
intoxication
as you put your body
in mine
the first time

Beer and cum
all I taste
as you kiss me
goodbye

and I watch
you leave.

2.
gone
islands of
waves and rocks
consume space
                                 between us

communication
over screens
snapshots a life
                                  that’s not us

this place you
call home
this girl you
call mine
                                  It’s not me

I delete
The evidence
Baths shared,
Music played,
Beer and cum
                                 Gone

Like the space
Between us

3.
can you grieve
men who are
still here

wanting to
fuck you
fill you
with their bodies
that you pretend
were lost
in ocean
that kept you
apart

can you grieve
a ghost
you killed in
jealousy

let them
eat you
taste you
savour you
in their mouth

are you allowed to grieve?
for the girl
this man loves

the girl he sleeps
next to
instead of you

as he fucks you
in her bed?

Can you grieve
men who are
still here

Fucking you

 

© arielletwist

Femme love letters: part three.

Holy femme, with brown skin and black hair that is full of waves like those that kept our ancestors apart. Holy femme, vibrating with power and intensity that I can feel in my lungs when you speak. Holy femme, who has shown me failure is growth, how to start shutting out those white voices in my head and that sluts don’t need redemption to be heard. Holy femme, caregiver to many cared for by few, I see you, I hear you, I feel you. Holy femme, who hears her ancestors screaming through her, the same way I shake and weep when I write for mine. Holy femme, we are powerful, we are vital, we are beautiful, we are holy.

© arielletwist

Femme love letter: part two.

Dear virgo femme,
With hair like the sun, yellow and wild like the days where I spent my time getting to know you in awe and admiration.

Dear virgo femme,
you have a way with words, articulate with legs that write beautiful love stories in the snow and sand that I could read forever.

Dear virgo femme,
fiery and fierce with power and knowledge passed down through education on these subjects we call career in a place we call home.

Dear virgo femme,
who inspired me to start writing again, this is all because of you.

I love you Virgo, Thank you forever.

© arielletwist

Muddy

Red earth, wet from the tears of my ancestors and dyed by their blood.
Red earth, under my nails and between my fingers as I try and hold on to my Kokum and all her magic.
Red earth, where I will return to, wet with my tears and blood. Muddy.

© arielletwist

To the man I call dad.

to the man who taught me that masculinity is more complicated than a fighting rage of adrenaline and testosterone, that it can look like holding and loving the caregiver and her children that the men before you left behind in death and wounded masculinity.

to the man, who like magic kept us safe in a world that is violent for me and my siblings. a place that is filled with such hate and destruction you continue to hold our complexities with a yearning to learn and a stumbling, ever-changing  understanding of what its like to be us.

To the man, who showed me what loving a femme looks like and how I should be loved as the femme I am. How you show her such powerful devotion and care coming from a place I didn’t even know existed in men, a place that is soft, a place that is love.

To the man, I will never grow up to be. I am forever grateful to you.

© arielletwist

Femme love letters: Part one.

Dear trans femme of colour,
who told me I was; Trouble. Dangerous. Fierce.
Thank you for listening,
to the vicious words that fill my body, clawing at my lungs for just a breath of life.
to those late night phone calls, when we are both exhausted from existing in a world that doesn’t hold us
so we held each other.
Thank you for sharing,
community, femmes with black and brown skin and bodies like mine.
your time, to make me a better writer, poet, person.
your brilliance, magic and power, which helped me harness mine, warrior woman blood rushing through my veins.

Dear trans femme of colour, I love you, I love you.

© arielletwist

Hands

These hands hold Power, with their thick, long fingers like tree roots they are buried into the soil with my ancestors as they harness their brilliance and power that’s keeps me grounded to this land.

These hands hold Rage, for my siblings who are missing, murdered, displaced, isolated, sold, raped, and lost in this place we once called home.

These hands hold complexities, of once being strong and callous for the masculinity forced by my colonizers, as well as the soft and hard femininity held and nurtured by the strong women who surround me, the femme spirit of my kokums before and the girl who didn’t have a childhood.

These hands hold Maps, carved into my skin by the creator of where I will go, who I will love, what I will accomplish, and when I will die and be reborn.

These hands hold pain, Burning and aching pain felt by my bloodline, intergenerational trauma running through my veins, beating in my heart and spilling on the floor in a pool that I had to cut out.

These hands hold these words, that I kept inside myself for too long worrying about how I will look, what you will think, or will you even listen.

These hands hold the creativity, spinning and dancing from my mind on to this page, a beautiful dance of letters and sounds that I wish I could speak in my mother tongue.

These hands hold guilt, for when you grabbed me and spun me around in your arms making me fall for you over and over and over. Different name but that same white skin, strong jaw, deep voice and need to take what is not yours.

These hands hold you.

© arielletwist