“How loyal the heart is” by Sasha in her bed

Tuesday October 8, 2019
9:37pm
5 minutes
Red Tights
Danusha Lameris

I never knew how loyal my heart was
until it broke open

I was younger the first time
and the second
I didn’t have the knowledge yet
of the expansion that comes
after the tightest knot undoes
when you least expect it
washing last night’s dishes
the light on the wet morning grass

This time
this time
a shell of white sand
falling into the crevices
where the dandelions grow
showing me what is
inside

I used to speak of love
like a language I spoke fluently
over confident
cocky
thinking I knew

That was before the stanza where rhyming begins
where the rhythm changes
where suddenly the goodness of being in gratitude
in the crux of the unknown

the goodness
of this
becomes the mother tongue
that I didn’t know I knew

“Share the love” by Julia at her dining table


Wednesday March 9, 2016
6:01pm
5 minutes
From the sign at Platform 7

I can remember Len holding my sunglasses out of reach. I was trying to grab them back but he wouldn’t let me hold them anymore because I kept taking them off and throwing them into the ocean. He knew how much I loved those stupid things. I used to get so bratty after whiskey. I wonder if he takes care of Kia that way. I wonder if she needs someone to keep her in check the way I did. I can remember the freckle on the inside of his left ear, the way his skin smelled of spicy cucumber, his favourite pajama pants with the secret pocket. I can remember the pain in my chest when he told me he couldn’t stay. It’s easy to remember the thing that stays the same.

“Potting Mix” by Sasha on the patio at Jimmy’s Coffee


Friday June 27, 2014 at Jimmy’s Coffee
11:25am
5 minutes
from the bag of soil

She spent more time in the garden to ease her broken-ness.
She called in sick to work and instead of burying her head in orders and inventory, so buried her hands in soil.

It was quiet in the morning, before the neighbours woke and turned on the radio and called for breakfast and
She breathed in the dew and the brightness of the bleeding hearts
Like hers
So familiar.

She picked a rose
Some lavender
A sprig of something pink and something red she couldn’t remember the name of
And stuck them in an old maple syrup bottle
And put that on her desk
So the outside could come in.

She picked mint
And sorrel
And purple basil
Arugula
Kale
And made a salad for lunch.