“big sister” by Julia in her bed


Sunday August 13, 2017
11:23pm
5 minutes
from Nannies On Call

Big sister gets a big girl bike and rides up and down the sidewalk. Wears her new shorts and her jacket. Big sister learns how to ride on the street. Big sister gets from A to B to Z. Big sister plans the route and then rides it. All the way to the store and back and to the school and back and to the sky and back. She peddles her legs and goes goes goes. Big sister cannot stop. She’s a husky. She runs because she must.

“he could hear her husky” By Julia on her couch


Thursday March 2, 2017
9:48pm
5 minutes
Ordinary Thunderstorms
Wiliam Boyd


After a week of coughing up dark globules of phlegm, Andie had had enough. She couldn’t afford to be anywhere other than a sink because as soon as she got comfortable, she’d get the call in her throat, and she’d have to spit. It was disgusting, to say the least. She wasn’t thrilled about horking up half of baby seal everytime she swallowed, but “better out than in” her mother used to say. Pierre was getting pretty sick of Andie being sick too. He once had to politely ask her not to spit in the bathroom sink out of fear of her clogging the drain with one of her “infection chews”. Andie laughed at this because, yes, they were chewy, and yes she was worried about clogging the drain too. When she did this, however, while as sick as she was, Pierre couldn’t help but be turned on. Her husky voice made her sound like pure sex. And he wanted her.

“over the next couple of weeks” by Sasha at her kitchen table


Monday January 6, 2014
8:24pm
5 minutes
bleubirdblog.com

Over the next couple of weeks I will open a store. Inside that tiny store will be lots of treasures. Wreaths of wildflowers dried in the sun. Preserved apricots with cinnamon and honey. Dill pickles so tart your lips pucker and your eyes smile. Small glass jars filled with homemade vanilla, or lemon essence or tea tree oil. A gold plated frame, about the size of your palm, with a black and white picture of a woman in a wide-brimmed hat. A whole wall of seeds, for planting in the spring. Butternut squash, lacinato kale, romaine, golden beets, rhubarb, wild rose and petunias. Another wall of recipes, each one priced for ten cents. Each one written by hand. A whole bookcase of poetry. E.E. Cummings, Mary Oliver, Hafiz and Naomi Shihab Nye. A husky will sit near the door, but the old, cream-coloured, sighing radiator. He’ll greet everyone who enters with a bark that reminds me of my first love.