“I have two more weeks to pack” by Sasha on her balcony

Saturday June 23, 2018
9:10pm
5 minutes
From a text

I have two more weeks to pack. I have TWO WEEKS! STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT! fucking hate packing, truth be told, and anyone who says that they enjoy it is a liar. Really! I mean what is there to like? You’re faced with all of your shit that is haunted with all the bad choices that you’ve made, and you always find a photo you wish you didn’t still have or a card or something… Every time I move, I get rid of tons of stuff but then by the time I move again I’ve accumulated an equally hideous amount of shit. I hate it! UGH! Wanna help me do it?! I’ll get boxes from the wine store and I’ll order pizza and I’ll love you forever?!

“Where it pours bean green over blue” by Sasha on the plane

Friday June 22, 2018
10:49am
Daddy
Sylvia Plath

From the sky this place is blue
over green all tumbledried
Yawning fresh mountain peaks touched with the toes

From the ground this place is home
even though that’s hard to say sometimes
Even though my this and that tries to tell me otherwise

From the trees this place is salty
the ocean breathing her seasons into hue
The rainy months giving way to this immeasurable beauty

From where I am
the mantra of thirty two is
Tell the truth
Tell the truth
Tell the truth
Tell the truth

Why choose any other

“your desired starting point” by Sasha at Mitzi’s

Thursday June 21, 2018
12:21pm at Mitzi’s
5 minutes
audacity.com

I’m decent at starting. A blank page – let the fingers dance and trust that they know the steps. A pot of vegetable soup – onions, carrots, celery, chopped fine, cooked until soft in olive oil and spices. Add stock, add salt, add a wish, and it will be good. A choice – feel it in the bones, or don’t, it will let me know when it’s moved to my stomach. It always let’s me know what’s best. A story – the people within it whose beating hearts are always the point. It’s that simple.

“in that beautiful mind” by Sasha in the Kiva

Wednesday June 20, 2018
11:02pm
5 minutes
All Of Me
John Legend

It brews in the guts for months and I wonder why I’m streaming rivers
It raises as a wail on a phone call and I feel sick with the wondering if I am not enough of a friend for this
But that isn’t it
That isn’t it

He’s held a throne since before we met so I don’t even know a world in which things are different
But it’s been in my guts since then since forever ago since before we met
So
Now it almost feels like I’ve missed my chance
But I know I haven’t
The chance is always there

I’m not sure how I’ll tell you
I’m not sure when is the best moment
Haven’t had a weight like this in awhile
Clouds over my eyes dimming the blue
Brick on my chest
Marble in my throat
Tears just almost there
Eyes the lake in the morning

I guess it’s not about what to do
It’s not about what to say or not say
It’s not about leaving
It’s about being with the truth in guts and sharing that with you
That something is off in the painting of the house on the hill on the island and I’ve always felt it I’ve always known
Maybe then I didn’t trust
Or I wished I would
Wished I could

As complicated as telephone wires strung above our heads
A spark
A deep breath
Here goes

“everything is ending” by Sasha on her mother’s couch

Monday, June 18, 2018
10:47am
5 minutes
A Visit from the Goon Squad
Jennifer Egan

Mama cries alligator raindrop tears cuz things are changing
“Why do things always have to change?”
She cries and cries and the house fills with salt water

Papa doesn’t laugh much anymore because he’s got a belly ache
And Mama is real worried
Danny’s going to firefighting school and leaving home
“We’re empty nesters!” She wails
And the tears spill out the windows

“Vivian! You’re going to drown the whole neighbourhood!”
Says Papa and I tell ya, I think he’s right

“Rule # 17: Act a little stupid.” By Sasha at her desk

Thursday June 14, 2018
11:32pm
5 minutes
The Queen Of Hearts
Kathleen Hawes

I’m not sure when I started playing dumb
started dumbing down
started acting a little stupid
started laughing when things weren’t funny
started seeing how far I could get
on eyelashes and witty words
How many drinks
how many drinks

how many drinkssss

Please

Was it when I needed an excuse for my body
needed to explain the sudden newness
needed a reason for all this extra?

Was it when I realized I could wield it
but it wasn’t power it was giving over
it was giving up
it was giving

Giving

Nostalgia turns the edge of memory up
flips the corners so that I’m just
not so sure about anything
not so sure about everything

“Get used to me.” by Sasha on Granville Island

Tuesday June 12, 2018
5:12pm
5 minutes
From a quote by Muhammad Ali

Walking through the snowy trails in big boots. Snow pants making steps feel strange and belaboured, intentional, my Mom, sister and I trudge across the beaver ponds. Many separate ponds connected by banks of shore, each trek took a similar shape – elation at the cold air biting my cheeks and feeling so warm in my pink jacket and pants, white boots and pink scarf that could be pulled up to make a hat. Joy at the rush of the endorphins – being with my family out in the ponds, especially after spending hours inside playing cards by the wood stove. And then hatred – too tired, too far, too long, too hot, need to pee, “I hate this!”, tears sometimes, fights sometimes. “See that cardinal there! Look, Sash, over there by the pointy pine! See the red?!” “Oh my gosh look! Look at what the beavers did to that tree!” Eating snow.

“our bodies amalgamated from the great melting pot” by Sasha at her desk

Sunday June 10, 2018
9:25am
5 minutes
The Communion of Strangers
Brian Jay Stanley

When we met
you were smoky eyed
luscious and tempting words
wearing green is what I remember most
the bigness of your youness
is what I remember most

before surgeries
a joint bank account
a daughter’s name chosen
and waiting in the bank
of where our hearts meet
a promise made under September sun

before two summers of waiting up
three fights where one of us broke something
four winters in the rain
five trips on highways and planes
six days a week of being ships crossing now
and priase be
seven whole years of this biggest love

In sleep our bodies know no boundaries
except when you’re snoring
or I’m too hot
or one of us is sick
In sleep we do become one
boundless being of newness
Nowness
Toes touching

Your arm under my head
cradling my dreamscape
My leg over your leg
hoping that you go so far
knowing that you’re home
when you’re here and when
we’re here
exactly like this

“Victory is ours” by Sasha on her balcony

Saturday June 9, 2018
9:14am
5 minutes
Victory
Charlotte D. Staelin

I’m not sure what to say about victory
or probiotics or the smell of the seat
in the back left corner of the bus

I’m not sure about jaw clenching
or the apartment across the alleyway
with the constantly changing people
and the lights going on and off

I’m not sure about eggs or dairy
and it no longer seems appropriate
to say that cheese is delicious

I’m not sure about the squirrel
digging up my parsley and the birds
that I’m feeding do you think
that will get in the way of them
getting their own food
in the future if I happen to move

“The American imagination” by Sasha at her desk

Friday June 8, 2018
10:23am
5 minutes
Poetic Justice an Interview with Camille T. Dungy 
Airica Parker

The American poses beside his sports car. He leans down. Pats the head of a chocolate poodle. The American laughs at your jokes when his mouth is full of steak, and then covers up and says, “How rude. You’re just so funny!” And you are. You don’t need him to tell you. The American upgrades his phone twice a year. He wears bespoke cologne that a perfumerie in Paris blended just for him. The American’s imagination is dotted with dollar signs, traced with ambition, dusted in gasoline, fingerprints of those who work to make his life happen.

“I liked watching him BBQ” by Sasha on her couch

Thursday June 7, 2018
11:13pm
5 minutes
From a text 

Driving along the country road
The paved ones before the gravel ones
I stick my arm out the window
and play with the air

You’ve never been to Knowlton Lake before
and I am already excited about waking up tomorrow
The way that the quiet hugs
The way that the birds know
the tune to the songs in our hearts

I can do no wrong with you
except when I do and then it’s bad
And then I cower in the corner
and you use your size
And I say that this isn’t what I want
and you cry until we go to the bedroom

James Taylor on the tape deck
I realize that I don’t know if
corn is in season
if we have to turn on the water
if there’s a French press

“Subway platform walls” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Wednesday June 6, 2018
10:10pm
5 minutes
People Revolution
Amani Bin Shinkansen 

So much of this now
maybe someone will listen
Someone big and someone powerful and
someone who can do something
I recognize how that sounds
I recognize how that might sound
naive

When the subway pulled
into the station
everything went black
Someone gasped
Someone said,
“Shit, now I’m going to be late”
Someone said,
“Another fucking jumper”

The ground knows how they feel
The ground can’t jump
I’m sorry if this is morbid
and you were hoping for something
Loving today
These five minutes are for
the grief and the someday somewhere
Maybe it will all get better

“Let us briefly consider the back” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Tuesday June 5, 2018
7:32am
5 minutes
The Other Side
Sarah Ball

I walk the sea wall in the morning. No matter what the weather. No matter “June-uary”. No matter. I wear layers because sometimes the sun comes out and sometimes it starts to drizzle, or hail, or gust. I whisper mantras and sometimes walk ten or twenty steps with my eyes closed. There are joggers. There are dog walkers. There are old couples who don’t need to speak anymore. They know what each other are thinking. I walk alone. I used to run when the twins were young. I’d push them in their double stroller. They’d usually fall asleep.

“Jesus do I have to even get out of bed” by Sasha at her desk

Monday June 4, 2018
11:32pm
5 minutes
From an interview by Devin Friedman

Ben calls to me from upstairs, “Jesus, do I have to even get out of bed?!” It’s the third morning in a row that he hasn’t wanted to crawl out from under the covers. It’s the third morning that I’ve wooed him with bacon, extra coffee, pancakes, sex in the kitchen. These tactics don’t always work, but they sometimes do, so I try.

“It’s almost ten, babe!” I call back. I hope he smells the brewing french press. I hope he hears the love in my voice, and not just the impatience.

“literally naked, mopping, and crying ‪at midnight‬” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Sunday June 3, 2018
10:55pm
5 minutes
Quoted by Sienna Miller

Mopping the floors at the end of the night is my favourite part of running a bar. I used to like the conversations that I’d have with customers – giving advice about unruly preteens, counselling on break-ups, weighing in on the best marinara recipe. That used to be my favourite part. But things change, we change. Now, after two, once everyone has left, I turn the music up loud. Maybe Sade or Tina Turner. Whitney if I’m feeling extra. I fill the bucket with water and a few drops of soap. It gets really sudsy. I’ve already put all the stools and chairs on top of tables. I dance with the mop and sing and take my time. I take my time.

“I’m as prepared as I ever am” by Sasha on her balcony

Saturday June 2, 2018
9:52pm
The Art Of Freeloading
Alana Levinson

“Vic, you’re starting to freak me out…”

“Why! We have to be prepared!”

“We live in a one bedroom apartment! We don’t have storage space for seven of those water jugs! We don’t have the space!”

“You know who is going to thank me when there’s an earthquake? You know who?!”

“Me?”

“YOU!”

“I’m down for being prepared, I am, I’ve told you that a million times, but this is just… too much. Every time you come home from the store there are more cans, more blankets, more matches… and this water?! Where are we going to put it?!”

“The storage unit. Obviously.”

“The one in the basement?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that full of camping gear?”

“And whose junk is that?”

“It’s mine! And it’s not junk! It took me a long time to collect all that stuff!”

“Go paint yourself” by Sasha on her couch

Friday June 1, 2018
10:21pm
5 minutes
From a L’Oréal ad

Third grade recess. Teacher calls me out for wearing purple mascara that I stole from my aunt’s medicine cabinet when I went to visit her in New York City.

I didn’t know that it was purple, or I wouldn’t have taken it. Teacher says,

“Why are you wearing make-up?! You’re just a kid! Wash that off right now!”

So I went inside and tried to get it all off but it was hard, it was clumpy, it was attached.

“Monika! You’ve got purple all over your face!” Javier whispers. He’s got my back. Bless him.

“Like you’ve never seen her” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Thursday May 31, 2018
8:56pm
5 minutes
allure magazine May 2017

You’ve never seen her lit up like this. You stand back and watch her, across the room, laughing, brushing her hair out of her eyes, sipping her soda water. You wonder what kind of mother she’ll be. A good one, obviously, but you wonder what her patience will be like. She can get snippy. You don’t idealize motherhood, or parenthood, or any of it. You know it’s going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. You close your eyes and breathe in this fall night, with these people you love, and the sausages on the grill, the asparagus salad, the Bahamas on the stereo. She catches your eye and calls you over.

“Thanks guys” by Sasha on her balcony

Wednesday May 30, 2018
7:08am
5 minutes
Overheard on Oak St.

“Why are you pouting, Liz?”

“I’m not…”

“You absolutely are.”

“You got what you wanted! You got the promotion, you got a second date with that hottie from the coffee shop, you got into the pottery class… Like, what’s the problem?”

“It’s never enough. I always want – …”

“More?”

“Yeah.”

“Welcome to being human. You’re not special for being insatiable.”

“I don’t think I’m special. That’s the thing.”

“You are special, but you aren’t special for always wanting more more more – ”

“Please stop.”

“Stop what? Trying to make you feel better?”

“I don’t want to – “

“Ordinary men and women” by Sasha at her desk

Tuesday, May 29, 2018
9:32pm
5 minutes
Northern Ireland: The Case Of Bloody Sunday
Carole-Anne Upton

Cookie cutter carbon copies
all in a row
Lawns mowed no rose
out of place
no birdseed on the porch
The sound of the ice cream truck
A little off time
A little nostalgic

Huff and puff and blow the house down

Mother gets up and fries bacon and eggs
Father gets up and makes lunches
(bread, salami, mustard, mayo, lettuce, bread)
Child gets dressed
Three eat together around the table
Trade pleasantries like baseball cards
Trade love like obligation
Child brushes teeth
Child kisses Mother and Father
Mother puts dishes in dishwasher
Schoolbus!
Father walks child to schoolbus

Huff and puff and blow the house down

“I’m not sure” by Sasha at her desk

Monday May 28, 2018
10:56pm
5 minutes
From an email

I’m not sure what you mean when you say that you’re going to “quit life”. I know you don’t mean off yourself, that wouldn’t be your style. I know that I stopped going to see you after a few weeks – I hate hospitals! I’m sorry! I made it so many times in those first weeks and… I’m sorry. I really am. You need to get it together and recognize the progress that you’ve made, Eileen. One day at a time, you know?! You can’t expect yourself to recover overnight. You need to be patient. Look. I’ll come and see you a few times a week, I’ll bring a DVD, or some takeout, and we’ll hang out, okay? Maybe you’re lonely. That’s probably it.

“a sleek white line” by Sasha on her couch

Sunday May 27, 2018
10:10pm
5 minutes
Are You Really An Artist?
Leah Burns

I first notice Steve’s expression as he’s carving a chicken. It’s Sunday. Emma and Bobby are home for dinner. Steve picked them up at Emma’s dorm, even though Bobby’s off campus now. Emma was chattering on about intramurals, and I saw it – this vacancy – sweep across Steve’s face. I’ve known Steve for forty two years, right, like, we met when we were five years old. We’ve been married for twenty… You’d think I’d have seen every expression that that man can muster! Nope. It was like a tumbleweed could’ve swept across his cheeks. He was gone.

“Hon?!” I said, scared he might slice off his finger.

“I take the streetcar alone to Nathan Phillips Square” by Sasha on her balcony

Friday, May 25, 2018
9:32pm
5 minutes
Demchanizing Our Politics
Maggie Hutcheson 

I take the streetcar alone to Nathan Phillips Square. It’s the first time I’ve been out of the house in what feels like weeks, but is actually days. Four days. It’s winter, and winter in Toronto is meant for hibernation and not leaving the house. Don’t judge me. I haven’t skated since I was a kid, and I certainly don’t own a pair. I rent some hockey skates for ten dollars and decide I definitely need a hot chocolate. I drink it before lacing up, watching the people go round and round. A few teenagers show off with quick stops and I wonder who might come to my rescue if I wipe out.

“I am not yours” by Sasha at her desk

Wednesday, May 23, 2018
10:08pm
5 minutes
I Am Not Yours
Z. Randall Stroope

You say you want a revolution but I don’t know about that. You drink your orange juice every morning straight from the jug, you add a glug of soy milk to cornflakes, you ride your stationary bike for thirty minutes (sometimes twenty, but that’s the only time you stray from the same the same the same the same).

You say that you’re boring, or bored, I’m not sure. You talk about the same three guys you went to high school with and who they’re fucking and why they’re sad, and how you’re better (or worse, but that’s the only time you stray from the same the same the same the same the same the same the same).

“Resource Recovery” By Sasha at her desk

Tuesday May 22, 2018
11:21pm
5 minutes
From an apartment garbage bin

All is okay now that we’ve touched hearts again
Now that the sky has turned from blue to black
Now that the space between is a bridge of goodness
We eat baby carrots and we drink from glasses
That’ve never touched these lips
These new places all new all fresh all free

My breath catches a million times and it’s okay
Because you know this kind of ache
Because you get where we’ve been and where we are
And where we’re going
It’s gonna take time we say
And we’re right
We know
We trust that this is where we’re supposed to be
Where we are

Riding home
Up hills and over potholes
I laugh and sing a song about travel
I make it up as I pedal pedal pedal
Like you would
Make it up on the spot
Gift it to you

“I know that guy, we’ve talked” by Sasha on the ferry back to the mainland

Monday May 21, 2018
3:18pm
5 minutes
From a text

I still get texts from you
three years after I knew you
After I took your words
in my mouth
sloshed them around
Spit out teeth and tar

With the gin and tonic
With the water and lemon juice
With the salad dressing

I still hear from you sometimes
When I’m least expecting
When I’m with my shiny prize of a lover
When I’m lonely
When I’m full

There’s nothing that sorry can’t buy
At least with me
But the fact that you don’t say it
That you never will
Is apple cider vinegar
Bath overflowing

What the fuck do you want from
Me on a Monday
So far in the future

I don’t respond
I never do
I imagine blocking your number
But then how will I know that
You need me
How will I know
That hundreds of kilometres away
Someone is reaching for
The past

“With its blood-red brick” by Sasha on Pender Island

Sunday May 20, 2018
10:43
The Virgin Cure
Ami McKay

Some women have broccoli pussies. Just a fact. Some women have grapefruit ones, at least they taste like that, at least that’s what some people say. Some women smell like fish and chips down there, real salt n’ vinegar. Ha ha! Some women have pussies that look like dahlias or roses or venus fly traps. Some women bleed every month with the moon, all witchy and wild-like. Some women don’t bleed at all because they’re too skinny, or they lost something that they have to find again. Sometimes you see one and you’re like – HEY! I’ve been wondering when you’d come into the light!

“present something that is true” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Saturday May 19, 2018
10:05 pm
5 minutes
From a quotei by Kelly Hill

The cedars remind me that
all that matters is
what’s true

I pick fossils on the beach
Wonder how many million
Years are in my hand

Trying to let go of expectations
You touch my cheek
Here we are

Sunburned nose and stars
Peeking bright
My heart races

The cedars whisper
Be here now
No where else to go

Eat cheesecake on the
Picnic table and
Listen to the waves

“Modern medicine clashes” by Sasha on her balcony

Thursday May 17, 2018
8:43pm
5 minutes
from The Observer (UK)

“You must be Mrs. Macarthy? It’s nice to meet you, I’m the resident who assisted Dr. Chokrany in Stephen’s surgery. I’m pleased to say that it was a success, and your husband is in post-op and he should be waking up in the next hour or so…”

“Hi Mom, I only have a minute and – … No, Mom. I don’t get long weekends. I’m – … Mom, I only have a minute so please let me finish. I didn’t get the fellowship in Halifax so I won’t be back for Gus’ wedding… Mom. Calm down. I, I – … Shit, I have to go. I’ll call you back when I’m out of surgery. I love you.”

“Babe? I’m going to be late… I’m sorry… I, I – … It’s been a long fucking shift, okay, and – … I’ll be home by ten at the latest.”

“Are you Sue Rothstein’s son? Hi, I’m Dr. Gold, I’ve just come out of the OR and I’m so sorry to say that your mother’s tumour had spread into her brain far more intensely than we could see from the imaging. She didn’t make it through surgery. I’ll give you a minute, and if you have any questions – … We always do our best, that always what we do… I’m sorry for your loss.”

“She actually cooks” by Sasha on her balcony

Wednesday May 16, 2018
7:02am
5 minutes
Overheard in the dining room

I take more time now
I try to rush less now
Or maybe that’s a lie now
T-R-Y is the truth I guess

I watch my mother’s body break
And I think about all the women
Breaking
Breaking open
Breaking down
Breaking through
Breaking waves
Breaking story
Breaking bread
Breaking hearts
Breaking wide

I can’t punctuate because
This isn’t over and there’s
No symbol that can accurately
Mark the
Break

Maybe it’s better to stick with
fingers stained
Yellow from curry powder
Or the fine art of slicing tomato
Blending chickpeas into gold

Breaking down the heart
Breaking down the nucleus
Breaking into laughter
Breaking into love

“Intelligent, quirky, passionate” By Sasha at her desk

Tuesday May 15, 2018
10:13pm
5 minutes
from Quill and Quire

Welcome to Search-and-Love and thank you for joining our community. Setting up your profile is going to take some time, but you can save as you go and come back to it as many times as you need to. Remember that the love of your life is going to see what you write here, so make it count. We congratulate you on taking your love life, and your future, into your own hands.

“I don’t think this is for me,” you say, and you’re right in some ways.

“Of course it is! Come on! It’s now or never!” I pat your arm.

“It hasen’t even been a year, Kel…” Tears fill your eyes and I –

“We’ve talked about this a million times. You have to get back on the horse. You’ll go on a few dates and you’ll see how you feel! If you hate it, you’ll take your profile down. Okay?”

Now, let’s start easy – describe yourself in three words.

“My mom calls him that” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Monday May 14, 2018
1:13pm
5 minutes
from a text

“Scrub-a-dub”. That’s what Mom used to call Dustin. He hated bath time, he hated water. He didn’t even want to drink it. Mom would have to add a splash of cranberry juice to his water bottles that she’d send to school. If it was straight water he simply wouldn’t drink it. Kira and I used to joke that he’d have a heart attack if he ever fell into a bath, or the lake.

“Come on, scrub-a-dub,” Mom would say, trying to distract him or something, trying her best to get him to bathe. He would scream and cry. He would tantrum. She’d usually resort to a sponge bath. We didn’t know that Dustin had a lot of other fears, too. We didn’t know what was going to happen.

“Manifest plainness” By Sasha at the BMO Theatre Centre

Sunday, May 13, 2018
1:53pm
5 minutes
From a quote on by Lao Tzu

Manifest plainness
the starling that eats
from the feeder on the porch
the hummingbird cooing
into sugar water

Manifest brilliance
the purple blooms
on the balcony
you’ve never bought
a hanging plant before

Manifest the unknown
talking about things that
there’s no way to predict
talking about the big things
that we can’t ever
know for sure

Manifest beauty
the sweetness of beloved
morning breath
footsteps
tree leaves

“The danger of tying your self-worth” by Sasha on her balcony

Saturday, May 12, 2018
11:47 pm
5 minutes
From a quote by Brene Brown

The danger of tying your self-worth to the way

that you look is that the way you look is
always changing and so if you think you
matter because you’re face looks good
or you gained ten pounds or you lost
five or your butt looks decent in those
jeans you thrifted

Well

It’s all impermenant
it’s all here today and gone
tomorrow just like the T-shirt
you got at the garage sale
on Arbutus two summers ago

I’ve come to know that it’s
the deep inside that truly
knows the words

“The job wasn’t that bad.” By Sasha at her desk

Tuesday May 8, 2018
8:15pm
5 minutes
Dirty Work
Nancy Matson

The job wasn’t that bad. It was the people. It wasn’t even the people. It was the person. She’d never met anyone like Mel, so angry, so vile, so bitter, so angry, so two-faced, so angry. She’d never met anyone like her.

“You’re a real asset here, Beth,” Mel said back in October.

“Aw, that’s kind of you to say. Thank you.”

“Any chance you’ve got the time to proof my pitch for the Silverstein’s?”

“Uh, I mean, I have an appointment at five thirty, but – …”

“Reschedule?”

“I… I can’t.”

“But I need your help.”

“When is the meeting?”

“Tomorrow morning!” Her voice started to get louder.

“Why are you just asking me – “

“Never mind. I’ll stay up all night. Whatever.”

“I, I’ll… I’ll help you. I just have to leave by five…”

“Whatever.”

“the hypocrites will teach.” By Sasha at her desk

Monday May 7, 2018
11:10pm
5 minutes
From a quote by Suzy Kassem

“I’m so glad you’ve come, Genevieve! I didn’t think you were going to – “ Katherine smells like Clinique.

“You didn’t tell you Mom I was coming?” Genevieve whispers out the side of her mouth.

“ I did,” says Sara. “I absolutely did.”

Katherine’s white collar is popped in a way that Genevieve has never seen, and somehow it looks good on her. She dyes her hair a deep red, almost purple. Somehow it looks good on her.

She’s slicing watermelon for the salad. “Sara says your almost done your thesis, is that true?”

“Why would I lie?” Sara looks at Genevieve like, “I’m sorry.”

“Oh you exercise?” By Sasha on Oak St.

Sunday May 6, 2018
7:55am
5 minutes
From a text

One two one two one two one two shin splint shit shin splint one two one two…

Marla runs for her life. She imagines that she is being chased by a King Kong sized giant, but it’s not a gorilla, it’s a moose. Is King Kong even a gorilla? Who knows. It’s not King Kong.

One two one two no pain in the lower back no pain in the toes hitting against the three hundred dollar running shoes no no no nope one two one two one two one…

The first time Marla ran she hated it. She was a year away from her wedding and she read in a magazine in her gyno’s office that running was the best way to tighten your whole body all at once.

One two one two meathead on the treadmill beside her side-eyeing her tits.

“a giant note to self” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Saturday May 5, 2018
10:13pm
5 minutes
@a_belovedgreen Instagram

I never wanted a fancy Bratwurst or a beer stein or anything. I don’t know why he brought all that stuff back. I found it all – oh, and don’t forget the Leiderhosen – on the coffee table. Mark had gotten home and then left again. He was probably at the gym. He’d written a note – “I really missed you XO”. No punctuation. I blinked because it was like the items were all a banner saying, “LEAVE! GO! NOW IS YOUR CHANCE!” I blinked because I had less than half an hour before he’d be back.

“earth, sky, water, fire and wood” by Sasha at her desk

Friday May 4, 2018
1:34pm
5 minutes
From a Caitlin Press newsletter

You walk by the water when you need the noise of the waves
Volleyball further down the beach
That’s okay
Those people are having fun and that’s okay

You walk the same stretch of beach and it knows
The cadence of your footsteps
That’s okay
It’s come to know when you’re alone and when you’re firing

Today was the same as most other days
People pissed you off and it had nothing to do with you
Why are there so many assholes?
You whisper it under your breath and wonder if it’s possible

That the sand smiled knowingly back
She understands assholes
Cigarette butts and glass bottles
She understands

“I call to ask my mother the name of the street” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Wednesday May 2, 2018
9:46pm
Flight
Idrissa Simmons

I see a woman holding the hand of a small child. Maybe he’s two and a half. The woman looks rotten. The child isn’t screaming, but I bet that he was a few minutes ago. She wipes his snotty nose with her own sleeve. It’s a nice sweater. That moment is full of surprise and worry. On my part. She looks at him with something I do not know. I am not a mother. Is it love? Is it hate? Is it indifference? Is it fatigue? She catches my eye, watching them, and glares at me. I must look crazy. Watching them. She’s just trying to get her toddler to blow his nose.

“I can’t get rid of useful things” by Sasha on her couch

Tuesday May 1, 2018
9:19pm
Carpet Bomb
Kenyatta Rogers

“Never get rid of useful things,” Homer says, leafing through a Chinese food take-out menu from 1993. The restaurant’s closed. He’s comparing prices of spring rolls and proving his point about inflation. I wouldn’t call Homer a pack rat, or a hoarder, but I would call him a bonafeid collector. They say that our greatest gift, is also our greatest challenge, and that definitely applies to Homer.

“Someone has opened a giant map” by Julia at her desk

Monday April 30, 2018
9:09pm
The Wall
Bruce Guernsey

said he didn’t want the globe i had my eye on
said it would take up too much room on the table
and i said what else are dreams for and he didn’t
seem to get it and the discussion was case closed
then he left and i got a tiny globe that used to
be a tiny piggy bank of the world but the bottom
fell out and i got it for free so i brought it
home and put it on the table and i waited for him
to tell me to get rid of the damn thing taking
up too much space on the freaking living room table
but when he got home he saw the tiny globe and said
oh nice globe i’ve always wanted a globe and i
didn’t say anything because i’ve always wanted a
globe and now i had one and it wasn’t being thrown
away or talked about badly or hurled against me
i said that one used to be a piggy bank but the
bottom fell out so now it’s just a tiny globe
but it’s always been a place to put your change

“Someone has opened a giant map” by Sasha at her desk

Monday April 30, 2018
11:16am
The Wall
Bruce Guernsey

Tap tap tap tap. Leg goes up and down
bobbing for apples. Good grief it shakes
the whole bench. Good God it drive me crazy
when people have no sense of how much space
they take up, how loud their breath is, how
much they are shaking everyone around them.
What kind of person is so unaware? Who was his
mother? Who taught him manners? I bet he’s a real
piece of work, probably drives a Benz.

Side-eye. He doesn’t notice. I bet he thinks
he’s a very big deal. What is that he’s holding?
Is it a map? Is he reading a map in the waiting
room? Who does that?! Where could he possibly
be going that he has to do this here?
Why is he anxious, is it because of the dentist
or the trip he’s about to take?

“Excuse me,” I close my eyes because if I open
them I’ll most certainly lose my courage.
“Could you please stop shaking your leg?” Benny
looks up at me, up from his book, he’s never
heard his mother speak to a stranger like this.
“Mama?” He says. I don’t look at him. I don’t
look at anyone. My eyes are closed.

The man folds his map.

“How could I predict” by Sasha at her desk

Sunday April 29, 2018
6:15pm
5 minutes
The Address Book
Louis Phillips

How could I predict the
shade of grey your hair
would turn
and mine too
every day a new
one near my temples
I don’t pull them out
like I used to
I say a prayer
for them
little warriors
little fuckers
little beauties
they are the milage
and the turning season

Every time I see you
I see the shimmer of
myself in you
around the eyes
the mouth the shape
of the face
the shade of grey
vessels to the time
before leading us
back there leading us
to now

We laugh like lions
staring down the barrel
of the gun
we nod and recognize
and know and surrender

“Flying Housewife” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Saturday April 28, 2018
12:58pm
5 minutes
http://www.independent.co.uk

crouching behind the counter tears staining wood
neko case on the stereo my favourite thing about
this place is that i can play my own music
pretty things on the patio ha ha ha caw ha ha
woman nursing in the third booth at the back
a party coming in thirteen minutes and i’m
all mascara stream all chest breath and salty lips
we grow to know the taste of being fucked over
because of our woman-ness only 24 and we know it
the lilt of our voices the tonic of our smiles
the cup size maybe or the calf muscle from walking
back and forth from kitchen to patio to kitchen
twelve minutes and twenty people who don’t get it
who think that maybe i’ve just had a bad day
pretty thing they think maybe her boyfriend dumped her
more like this place this man upstairs says his wife
doesn’t like me doesn’t like me doesn’t like pretty thing
more like the loyalty turned bad orange juice
oops fuck oops i’m sorry i never meant to
oops i’m sorry i didn’t mean to be
too alive for this hierarchy of buttered toast
he always did like the pretty things but i didn’t
think i was one of those i thought i was something
else a good conversation a killer joke a knack
for smoothing over the discontent of cold eggs

“Come prepared with questions” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Friday April 27, 2018
7:33pm
5 minutes
From the Verses Festival of Words 2018 program

He got there first. I’m early. He’s got a beard. He didn’t have a beard when I googled him, none of the photos did. His beard has grey in it. His hair is dark, almost-black but not quite. He has dark eyes, too. Very white, very straight teeth.

“You must be Lucy?” He reaches out a hand, he stands up, he reaches out a hand and it’s warm.

“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for agreeing to do this…” I’m shaking. We sit. I order a sparkling water. He says something about needing to eat. I can’t imagine eating, so I say I already did, even though I didn’t. “I have some questions prepared,” I pull my notebook out of my backpack.

“Response rate: 100%” by Sasha on the 17

Thursday April 26, 2018
9:52pm
5 minutes
poparide.com

Our third Thanksgiving all together, Babs teaches Simon and me how to make a mirepoix – two parts onion, to one part celery, and one part carrot. Babs peels her carrots, but when Simon and I make it later, and she isn’t around, we don’t, almost like we’re honouring Mom.

Mom was a lover of peasant food, or at least that’s what she’d call it. Nothing fancy. As few pots as possible. She made a great Dahl. She used to pack it in our lunches and the other kids would wrinkle their noses when we opened our thermoses, steaming lentils and curry. We weren’t embarrassed. Maybe it’s because we always had eachother, Simon and I. Being a twin is weird. But you do always have someone, and that’s nice.

Babs never asks us to call her anything but “Babs”, not like Dad’s second wife who insisted we call her “Maman”.

“The liar’s punishment” by Sasha at her desk

Wednesday April 25, 2018
10:25am
5 minutes
From a quote by George Bernard Shaw

I live in a different room in the house of your heart now
that the truth is out and five months have gone by
and still no word from you

I live in the room with the ones that have done you wrong
and we cower in corners when you open the door or
someone else does

I won’t call myself liar for you because the only thing I
would do differently is the one thing I
can’t do differently now

Three lines can hold the truth and the lies better than we can
so here I am and here you are but not
really you’re ten streets away

Sometimes when I think about you I think about if I’ll ever
live in a different room than this one
in the house of your heart

Is it possible for us to go into the maze where we don’t know
which way is best which way is up which way is healing and
how much are we willing to release so we both can move on

“Mother stomps up” by Sasha on a bench outside work

Tuesday April 24, 2018
2:02pm
5 minutes
Says Mother
Laura Willwerth

Down in the basement room with the door closed
Down in the basement in the room with the closing door
Down in the basement before it was my room
Hammock in the corner
Bed in the corner
My own bathroom five steps away

Down in the basement room with the closed door
I tasted love for the first time
I mixed salt with the male body
of this man body
of this boy

Ecstasy and sex on our lips
Frozen when we heard my mother’s steps
down the stairs
I was supposed to be back in my own bed
by midnight
What happens after midnight is different I guess
I guess that’s what she thought

A knock on the closed door
Shitshitshitohgodshitshit
Pull on shirt pull on underwear pull on this
new body of a woman a woman who is here and won’t go
away now won’t go back

“I found an opossum” by Sasha at Jamjar

Monday April 23, 2018
2:39pm at Jamjar
5 minutes
Dirty Work
Nancy Matson

I found an opossum in the garden and I don’t know if you’ve ever seen one but they are strange looking little things. Marsupials, I think.

Fran used to have a book on all the wild critters that might be on the land and sometimes, and I remember once, when she was reading this book in her orange chair, she called to me in my study,

“George! The female opossum’s reproductive system includes a bifurcated vagina, and a divided uterus! Can you believe it!?!”

I laughed then, and I do again now, thinking of her wonder and curiosity about all of God’s strange creatures.