“the only identifier” by Sasha at her desk

Wednesday August 7, 2019
10:24
5 minutes
Orange Socks
Kate LeDew

  1. Make a peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich. Cut it in half, diagonally. Leave it on the plate for a few hours. You aren’t hungry. Haven’t been for almost two weeks. Funny how appetite becomes the barometer for feelings, at least in your family.

  2. Find the sandwich, only a bite taken. The contents have seeped into the bread. The bread it turning hard. Take another bite.

  3. Phone rings and you ignore it. You can’t bear to put something on your voice, the connective tissue to the truth. You would have to if you answered, no matter who it was, let alone Miranda.

  4. You open up the sandwich and run your finger through the jam. You lick your finger. You say a small prayer to the strawberry seeds.

“contemporary re-imagining” by Julia at Lindsay’s apartment


Thursday September 15, 2016
11:30pm
5 minutes
from an email from PTC

Couldn’t see past the glare of the sun
You were standing there dripping wet
You had just leaped out of a rainbow or something
And you were bright
and I wanted to love you.
Thought it best to keep you out of full view
I might have wanted to sculpt you better
More the shape and size that I know I would need later on
But if I couldn’t see you
I wouldn’t be able to find anything wrong
I liked your stamina
You stood there dripping colours that I had already promised myself
The ones I had proposed to
And you seemed to be smiling
I could have kept you happy in that perfect moment
I could have remembered to breathe deep and follow it into myself like the book woman said
I could have let you stand there exposed in all your offering
As a comfort to myself
And to you

“Shhh…..” by Julia at her desk


Saturday December 5, 2015
11:49pm
5 minutes
Overheard at Kits Beach

I clutch the truth to my chest like a secret that is not meant for anyone to see but me.
It stings a bit, this truth. If I hold it too tight it starts to burn through my skin.
I don’t tell you because it might burn you too.
I can’t let that happen. I promised I would protect your heart. I promised I wouldn’t let even one bad thing get close.
You beg me for my truth. You try to sneak it away from me when I’m not thinking clearly. You bet you can take it from me to peak at its face in the place between asleep and awake. The place where I call out sometimes and tell stories in the dark.
You think it’s sweet that I grip it so tight. You laugh when I roar at you to back away. You call me your lion and you plant a kiss on the skin closest to my lips:close enough for me catch it…or close enough to bite.

“containing all parts” by Julia on her bed in Baden


Sunday, March 31, 2013
12:41am
5 minutes
the Bonomelli box of Camomile tea

She had bit the inside of her lip. Hard. Felt the blood start to fill her mouth. Tasted the iron. Running her tongue across the chewed up flesh underneath her bottom lip. She sat there in the middle of her bedroom floor, dreaming of a better feeling than this…A worse one? Was there such a thing? Or was this anything and everything? She was making a vision board; an inspiration collage; a quick fix to her lack of discipline and drive…
She jabbed her pointer finger into her mouth and pulled it out quick. She stared at her finger, examining it, the red water colour slowly dripping down until it collected at the base of her palm in a puddle. She was lost in thought. Lost in a trance because of the rain outside her window. Because of the soft thumping of a distant headboard in a room nearby… but not close enough to decipher any of the words, or moans–only close enough to know they were good…
She grabbed a square of bright pink construction paper. She folded her bottom lip down and pressed the bite mark on to it. Little red flecks splattered out and across.