“The letter should be read out loud” by Sasha in front of the fire

Friday February 7, 2020
10:15pm
5 minutes
Anger, Boundaries & Safety
Joann S. Peterson

I buy two cards
the same cards
at the bougie shop
that I hate to love

It’s these firsts
that make me smile
gasp
yawn
I’m tired of myself

I’ve run back and forth
to Lola several times tonight

her rosebud mouth finding
my rosebud nipple
matching puzzle
the gurgles and gasps
tiny snores and reaches
I stroke her soft hair
and wonder what I could’ve
possibly done in this life
or the last one
to deserve such  grace

I walk in the rain
trudging the same daily path
a ritual of cold fingers
chapped lips
lilting toes
breath a drum
cedars touching heaven
roots touching mine

“stories superimposed” by Julia on D and A’s couch

Saturday January 6, 2018
9:53pm
5 minutes
Winter Watch
Jennifer Elise Foerster

A lot of weird conversations lately. A lot of jet lag and weird conversations. I heard the story I was telling myself and told it to myself anyway. I didn’t want to but I did. I had a weird conversation with somebody who wasn’t in the room. I had a weird conversation when I was the only somebody in the room.

I think from now on I’ll do my best to remember those good cards guiding me into my autonomy. All of them said I’d be able to choose everything on my own and that I’m already capable. I don’t know whose opinion I’m waiting for. I’ve never told a good friend not to trust their feelings. I don’t know why I’d ever tell myself that. And those cards had good images on them. So many trees that I’d be remiss in ignoring. Trees don’t wait for the other forest creatures to tell them they are mighty. They just are. They grow tall and strong whether someone tells them to or not. And that’s just one example. I even got a message saying I would
know how to reroute my own journey. Me. I don’t need to wait.

“vow to scrap” by Sasha at R Squared Cafe


Tuesday, December 22, 2015 at R Squared Cafe
12:49pm
5 minutes
Overheard on Gerrard St.

the sun peeks and i am reminded of the
grandmothers in the congo raising their grandchildren
girls and boys a generation removed
the wedge of hunger and dis
ease

i buy a pair of expensive boots i can’t
really afford
and wear them and then they hurt my feet
my calf engaged more muscle more fire more
want more more more
more

a kiss tattooed on a neck
arms overflowing with
presents
the saccharine aftertaste of
over abundance
i find a card from my father’s mother

“merry christmas sasha!
i hope this finds you well.”

“the height of professionalism” by Sasha on her couch


Tuesday, October 13, 2015
6:12pm
5 minutes
howlround.com

Every time Jada puts a stamp on an envelope she says, “and may you arrive with swift inspiration.” She squares the corners and adds it to the pile. On Wednesdays she goes to the Post Office. She uses her trundle-buggy. She gave up her car Winter of last year when she realized that if she walked or took the bus, at least that meant she’d see people. Jada runs “Cards of Love”, an Etsy store. She hand letters invitations and birth announcements. She has mastered the art of the dove, the mistletoe and the bells. She lives alone, in the first floor apartment of an old brick house with a black shingled roof. On Wednesdays she goes to the Post Office.