Saturday April 15, 2017
Remy shows up on my doorstep with blood running from his nose onto his once perfect white collared shirt. He doesn’t even notice the bleeding, or that his eyes are wide until I recoil from his touch.
“Krista,” he says, “I’m here, I’ve made it. Let’s get married.”
My heart does a back flip and lands with a thud. I haven’t seen Remy in 2 years. The last time we spoke he told me he was going to get clean. He asked me to wait for him.
Liz is waiting behind the corner with a baseball bat ready to knock him out. I realize quickly that he has already been knocked out-and the likelihood of him doing that to himself, knowing Remy, is high.
Friday April 14, 2017
from a business card
Undress me with your knowing of the type of tear on my cheek. We listen to music loud because words aren’t enough, we need the melody too. And the lyrics talk about how we’ll die, how we all die, how love is light and heavy at the same time and we don’t know if we’ll rise or fall. My heart aches when we’re apart, but I like it too, like she sings, like the world sings. The wisdom of each year, the wisdom to know all that I don’t know, all that you don’t know, the mystery of birthdays and water from eyes.
Thursday April 13, 2017
From a Way of the Heart info sheet
Living in an ordinary world
like we all are
like the sound of the streetcar rattling
like a city haunted with
bike rides and kisses
scratched palms and farmers markets
Here we all are
now now now
shaking hands with history
nodding at future
making eye contact with what could have been
falling backwards into what is
Here we are
dancing circles around the
house where we grew up
Wednesday April 12, 2017
From the Walk to Fight Arthritis flyer
Trying to keep the sadness at bay
holding my arm out like a stranger
Dreaming of the snow bluffs the
Dreaming of before the fall
I see you fingering your prayer
beads in my mind’s eye and I’m
sorry for the yelling
and I’m sorry
for the weight of the discontent
I want to promise you it won’t
be hard like this again
but I can’t
and I won’t apologize for that
I won’t because I don’t want to
lie to you
lie with you
lie on you
Your prayer beads lining my spine
Tuesday April 11, 2017
Microphone Lessons For Poets
Mickey isn’t sure about avocados, but Gloria eats them all the time so she learns how to embrace the strange texture. “I can’t believe you’ve never had avocado before?!” Gloria screeches, slathering half on a piece of rye toast. “It was hard to get good produce in the town where I grew up…” was Mickey’s excuse. “Where did you grow up?” Gloria bit down and closed her eyes. “You wouldn’t know it… Small town. Up north past Thunder Bay.” Mickey watches Gloria a lot. Ever since she moved in to Gloria’s two bedroom first floor apartment, she tries to find reasons to look away but struggles. Gloria is curvy, with long black hair and big brown eyes and she’s gorgeous, the most gorgeous woman that Mickey has ever seen.
Monday April 10, 2017
From the sign on Mac’s Convenience
When you win the lottery, you are the kind of woman who still works. You cut back to part time. Three or four days a week. You supply the break room with seasonal treats, healthy ones, except at Halloween and Easter. No one knows who to credit, and you smile as Isaiah and Sean make guesses. You do your research and you give to a different charity every year. You sponsor a Syrian family to come to Canada, and you meet them at the airport thirteen months later and the little girl with braids down her back hugs you and calls you “Aunty”. You stop buying drugstore lipstick. You don’t feel badly about the money you spend on food. You have a gym membership and a yoga membership, even though you only do both once or twice a week.
Sunday April 9, 2017
Overheard in the hallway
I want a pair of silk pyjamas. I feel very sophisticated when I put them on my Christmas list and ask my stepmother to buy me some – purple, with white pinstripes. I wear them the night I receive them. I feel like a queen, sliding into bed, the silk against my skin like a good dream. I fall asleep quickly and wake in the middle of the night in a sweat. What is wrapped around me restricting my movement suffocating my ribs and hips? Oh my god, get this shit off of me! I strip down, throwing my pyjamas beside the bed. When I wake in the morning I feel guilty. I promise myself that I’ll wear them on weekend mornings, to read and make breakfast. “They will be luxury loungewear,” I think.
Friday April 14, 2017
from a business card
Barry is my boss and also my father. He does not let me take home extra envelopes or paper clips. Once he said I could have the left over pinapple from the staff party, but other than that he’s a pretty big stickler for the rules. He’s the middle child so I guess you could say he was a big advocate for justice. Things always needed to be fair. Barry is a good boss and a good father. He sends me letters when I travel, he walks me all the way to the baggage drop off at the airport. Barry has a picture of me in his wallet singing into a toy microphone. He tells his other emplpoyees very little about himself. I’m the only one who knows his birthday.