“with the theme of fear” by Sasha at the table at Pascoe Rd.


Monday November 9, 2015
1:17pm
5 minutes
ionmagazine.ca

The night she dies I get a text from a bartender
I sometimes fuck
I wash my
face I get on my
bicycle and I go to
his house
On the way
Somewhere east of Dupont
My chain falls off
I can’t stop the tears
Can’t stop the oil from getting
on my dress
I arrive too close to morning
too far from my father
He lights a joint and the promise
I made to myself not to tell him
Undoes like the clasp of my bra
Naked I’m a puddle of chipped nail polish and
missing
He’s a father so he knows
how to soothe
He rubs my back until I’m hiccups and
when we fuck he’s gentle
he knows just how to look me
in the eye
I leave before I can feel grosser before
I can taste the tinniness of shame
My tongue heavy in my mouth I sing
under my breath
Up the hill on the way
home

“I really cannot tell you with what it was filled” by Sasha on the dock at Knowlton Lake


Wednesday, July 31, 2013
4:23pm
5 minutes
Kwaidan
Lafcadio Hearn


When my dream broke, a Camry full of Mexican boys was cat-calling, as I pedalled as hard as I possibly could. It was a slow incline, the kind that you don’t even feel when you’re driving. The dream was that I would be tough enough, strong enough, focused enough, committed enough, to ride my bike across the continent. I had sworn off the tank top because it drew too much attention, it was reflective and fluorescent, and I didn’t need anything else drawing eyes to me, a pull that I’d never had before. I was roasting in my black cotton T-shirt, soaked through over five hours ago. I had to put on the tank top, I had no choice. The Camry boys liked it, the tank top, they told me so, at least I think that’s what they were saying.

I felt the dream break like a meringue. I felt it fall off of me, onto the road. Crumble, break, crumble. I couldn’t even look over my shoulder and take one last look at it. I could hardly breathe, suddenly, which was strange given that I’d already been riding for over two months. I was in the best shape of my life. What was next, now? Now that my dream was being eaten by a donkey?