Two Poems by Maisie Chilton
This piece was performed by Maise at the Crip the Lit event at Verb Festival 2020. Crip the Lit promotes, encourages and amplifies the work of writers with lived experience of disability. The provocation for the event was ‘Vulnerability’ - as we all know, it's a word of the times – but then, just to mix it up a bit, we threw in some random words which is how we got the intriguing session title of: Vulnerability, fluorescent islands and resilient teabags. Every writer has approached our theme in their own style. As you read the work (selected pieces published from the event) you might also catch those random words subtly inserted in some pieces and not so subtly in one...
Swim.
First there was the womb, and
then the exile.
life welcomed me into its
arms of blackwater
demanded I swim.
The cold took my breath away.
Mother.
Mother, catch me.
Mother,
stretch out those olive
arms, hold
my hand, mother.
Pull me in ward
kick, kick,
Straighten your legs. kick,
harder.
Father teaches me to survive.
Blink, blink
tilt the head
back
mother sees blackwater filling
eyes.
You learn to know it’s
working when you
taste the bitterness
in the back of your throat.
You,
the expert in blinking things back.
Move those arms now, darling.
Open up that hand, and
swim.
Move your body for us,
sweetheart.
Show us how you tilt,
bend.
Show us how you’ll walk,
now
bend over, let us
see the spine.
Doctor
doctor, tell me I’m a good girl
run your fingers up my
puzzled bones tell me
my foundations are
right
enough.
straight
enough,
able enough
to support myself?
show us how
you’ll float,
dearest.
make it look easy now,
the key is to relax.
Didn’t you know?
Smile now.
Your smile’s so
beautiful,
little one.
Give us a show.
The sun moves behind
the houses
turning slowly
dark as the light
gains.
peach tree shows where
they cut her
bone flesh, and
I am tired.
tired
of self,
soothing
self
medicating
self
induced coma
me,
the doctor.
Stop.
Stop until the blackwater pools
round your eyes
you were still cold, just
numb.
I am here I am here I am
here I am
nowhere to be found.
………..…
Less to lose
I have less to lose and,
I have less to lose.
I’m short-
dated stock.
Damaged but
might make a nice accessory
to your ego
or your diversity quota.
I’ll play the disability card
if it gives you a moral hard-on
baby,
pity me.
Let me be your
inspirational story
your
two dimensional trope
a point to measure
it could be worse
a narrative so deeply internalised
this must be what they mean by
having a spare rib.
The black bib
to hide the blood
adorned on me at birth
My bread and butter.
Wash it down with
intense feelings of isolation, and
all the times I made
molehills
out of mountains.
I grew up knowing
I’m pretty
passable
as long as I don’t speak.
I speak anyway.
and let’s face it
I do have to be better than
you
meet someone new and,
hope they see
your
polished Instagram selfie
I walk in and,
that ship has already sailed.
Hashtag nofilter.
I don’t need you anyway
denial is my best friend
and we go
way, way, back.
I remember thinking
I can’t be
retarded and fat
I remember thinking
I’m not stupid
And
all the times I spoke
you mouthed words back at me.
patronising hand-hold
makes my skull turn inside out.
Shove those words down my throat baby,
spoon-feed me while you’re at it.
Cerebral palsy didn’t make me blind.
Wash it down with
violets for breakfast
and this
homogenised breastmilk
I am weening myself of
I am starving myself of
maybe if I get small enough
they wont notice my speech.
And
just look how big
your body looks
next to mine.
Throw me around babe
I’m the perfect combination of
pretty
with low self esteem.
Toosmalltofightyouoff
I’m your dream girl.
Wash it down with
red wine
the natural healing properties
of turpentine,
and memories
of when your father taught you
the most humane thing to do
with an injured bird
is to break its neck.