fish!
that year, the summer was
nosebleeds and candy apples.
none of our clothes fit us anymore —
our bellies burst with fruit and sugar and
all the sun we could swallow.
we scratched mosquito bites the size of grapes
until yellow scabs peeled off, our fingers and
teeth stained purple with blackberries
eaten by the dozen, leaving entire bushes bare.
our mouths were made for eating
and we devoured anything we could get our little hands on.
at the dining table, our grandfather taught us french patois
between two mouthfuls — the same words
we couldn’t pronounce the summer before.
stuck between the y’s and the r’s of his sailor tongue,
the years didn’t pass. we ate gramin poiscaille
as he told us about the kilo of candy
he’d bought for our aunt in 1992,
on the ferry from boulogne-sur-mer to grimsby.
my grandmother, silent at the end of the table,
counted the red and yellow
pills he’d forgotten to take that morning.
on the drive back home,
i saw my first stork on the highway;
and as we fell asleep to wind turbines
flashing red lights in the night,
our bellies full,
i remembered the first english word
i learned on my grandfather’s sailboat:
‘fish! fish!’, as he lowered his rod
into the ocean.
Louise Devismes is a published French poet and multi-slam champion based in Canterbury. Her work is primarily focused on femininity, coming of age, and her hometown. Louise has headlined numerous slams, and is the current Utterance Grand Slam Champion. You can find her at her website, www.louisedevismes.com.