“Her bigness sweeps my being” by Sasha in the bedroom

Thursday June 18, 2020
5 minutes
Claude McKay

Supple in her sweeping she walks in to rooms and people
Notice the broadness of her shoulders or maybe
it’s just her command
Her gaze is chestnut and pride
A few nights sleeping under a bridge when you’re seventeen and
High on meth
And your gaze changes for

June calls for brightly coloured beads and Slurpees spiked with vodka
Drum and bass sweaty thighs sticking to garden chairs
Ice cubes melting in bellybuttons
Asking for what she actually wants for once in her life for
Once in her fucking
Dream she is the real versioning vision of who she knows herself to be

When she turned forty
She promised to forget about all the assholes who took her for granted
She’s wasted so many hours with a clenched jaw
Focus on the love her cat gives her in the morning
Paws pressing into her forehead
Nails flirting with a scratch
Her cat saves her life and she never thought she’d be someone
To say that

Always hated when people spoke of cats in such a way

She turns up CBC radio
Opens a window
Picks up Rocco
Pats his calico head and picks gunk out of the corner of his eyes
She’ll make waffles for breakfast

Because it’s June 18th
Because it’s Thursday
Because she’s here and she slept decently well last night and she doesn’t feel the growl of an unanswerable question in her elbows

“No need to wait until we die!” by Julia at her dining table

Saturday April 23, 2016
5 minutes
The Essential Rumi
Tr. by Coleman Barks

We’re both sitting on the roof of Geri’s cottage and everyone else has gone to sleep. We are smoking weed and sipping on Mike’s Hard Lemonade and all of it feels perfect in this summer heat. I don’t know who started it but we’re playing a series of “get to know you”/ “get to fuck you” games. Questions like “Would you rather” or statements like “Never have I ever”. I am having the time of my life. I am flirting with you. Hard. You are flirting back and it feels like we could have been doing this thing together all our lives by how easy it all feels. At one point, after we simultaneously down our intentional drinks after both answering that we have have both in fact had a sex dream about the other, you tell me to close my eyes and say “stop” when your finger tips tracing my inner arm get to my elbow crease. I don’t want to say anything that might make it end.

“Eye Candy” by Sasha in the garden at Joe Creek Artist Residency

Thursday, July 30, 2015
5 minutes
From a shop in NYC

You’ve got that look on your face that says, “Come here, Eye Candy. Come here and let me butterfly kiss you.”

I know it because I’ve done it, because I used to have that magnetic ability that you have – making eye contact with someone across a dance floor, a re-claimed wood bar, a coffee shop. Beaconing without hands or words, a lighthouse of eyelashes and expanding pupils.

I’m not sure what’s changed.

I’ve done it once or twice since everything changed, since I did just that – butterfly kiss – and threw down an anchor in a man twice as honest as I am.

“Power protects power” by Sasha at Higher Grounds

Saturday November 1, 2014 at Higher Grounds
5 minutes
From the program notes for Saint Joan at the Arts Club

I have a huge crush on Jay. Like, huge. I realize that I act like an idiot around him, laughing and blushing and pretending I don’t know things that I do know. I know a lot of things. My voice gets high and my cheeks get red and I almost can’t feel my toes when I’m around him. I can see myself, floating above, the real me, the one that has read the whole Young Adult section at the library, acting like a fucking bimbo idiot. I am ashamed of myself.

“STOP HERE” by Julia at her desk

Sunday, July 21, 2013
5 minutes
from a traffic sign in Mississauga

there is a fine line between right and wrong, and delanie likes to flirt with it. she waddles up to it as if she’s about to give it a big fat blow job then she waddles back, acting all coy and shy like some girl scout who just got caught for eating too many of her own delicious mint cookies. delanie knew she was a line flirter since she was young but she never once called it that. to her, are you kidding, she called it “adventure” or “fun”, even. she’d sometimes put on a slinky dress and ooze her bad ideas right on up to that line, and she’d dance directly on it letting her ruffles touch the edge but not long enough for them to get caught there. she’d work up enough confidence to stick her tongue out right over that line but pull it back into her wet mouth right before it was too late. she never went over it though…she wouldn’t want what was on the other side anymore if she did. the chase was something she was into….her mother taught her about reverse psychology when she was young and as soon as she understood what it was, she knew right away that she was going to be a victim of it. delanie always wants what’s on the other side but doesn’t want to give in too much to show that she might..just..take it…
her mother doesn’t flirt with the line like her daughter does. she stands far enough away dabbing the sweat off her brow with the handkerchief her grandmother gave her when she was in her twenties.

“wider and deeper” by Julia at Quality Suites Hotel in London

Tuesday March 5, 2013
5 minutes
Focus Section
The Globe and Mail
Saturday, January 19th, 2012 edition

It was like she was trying to get me to sleep with her. She was acting all cool and calm and confident. She must have heard it was my weakness or something. When women just behave the way they want without trying to impress me. It’s like, she’s doing her thing and barely acknowledging me and I’m sitting there watching her and it’s tough, you know? She just knows when to cross or uncross her leg, or hit me slightly when she laughs, but not for too long. Long enough that I notice, but not long enough for her to be overtly flirting with me. I don’t think she is flirting either, she just sort of likes me and my company. I want to ask her out. I want to tell her she’s fun, or smart, or both of those things. I want to tell her that it’s not easy for me to laugh and she makes me do it. She literally makes me do it in spite of myself. That’s why I’m into it, you know, just cause she’s not trying and I’m not really the one in control here. She’s succeeding, at any rate. There’s no food here so I’m just sitting thinking of her and wishing that the next time we see each other I can be involved in one of her funny jokes about someone else in the room. Not in a mean way. I just like being on the inside of jokes, especially when it’s with a pretty girl. I feel like at the same time she doesn’t want me to say anything to her, or make a move. She likes the freedom of whatever this is before it turns into something different. I like it too. I like to be free.

“THIS WILL NEVER LAST” By Julia at her kitchen table

Friday, December 21, 2012
5 minutes
The Harbourfront Centre Season Guide
Winter 2012/2013

“Sure, I’ll call you,” she says, and winks. He’s a bundle of nerves and he’s sweating through his favourite white deep V T-shirt. Surely she’ll call. She has to. She says she will.
She’s a mermaid. Long red hair, hour glass frame, peach perfect lips.
He thinks about what she looks like in the rain, in the shower. His imagination is unstoppable.
He returned her cashmere scarf to her last week because she left it at his coffee shop, on the window sill. She left her e-mail, he he gave her his number. They met up to make the exchange and he cracked a witty joke that made her shoot hot chocolate out of her nose. He remembers feeling like he was high…
He told her he wanted to take her out for dinner. “Sure, I’ll call you.” That’s what she said and that’s what she says. Over and over he replays the image: her beautiful, laughing, winking; Him smiling awkwardly, sweating trough his favourite white deep V…