“QUEEN BARGAIN MART” by Sasha on the Queen Streetcar going East


Thursday January 9, 2014
11:45am
5 minutes
from the store by the same name on queen west

When you recycle memories
Sloshing them in the blue bin
You’re not doing yourself a favour
It hurts to see them like that
All mixed up together
Mushy.
On Tuesday morning
When you put them on the curb
Your parka over your pyjamas
You might laugh
You see that one your forgot about
The time you fell off the dock and thought you might drown
You were scared then
And you felt remarkably free.
When you’re walking away
The wind picking up your first kiss and taking it somewhere west
You catch a sniff of yourself
Aged six
Stealing a Rolo bar from the Queen Bargain Mart.

“feel your own feelings” by Sasha at her desk


Monday, September 16, 2013
11:58pm
5 minutes
Codependent No More
Melody Beattie


I wore my straw hat, and my long red swishy skirt, and a lace top that used to belong to a woman named Moondancer. I’d taken great care in painting my toenails, even though they’d only peek out under the hem, dancing coral crescents. I wanted it completely quiet in the house. Even though I loved music, I preferred to listen to the rhythm of the ravine, the crooning of the wind through the chimes hanging on the porch. I made skillet cornbread dotted with hot peppers. Your favourite. A big ol’ pot of chilli simmered on the stove, chock full of beans, tomato, garlic, cumin, vegetables from Fredrick’s garden, and all the thoughts I thought while chopping and stirring. Mostly of you. Mostly of the sound of your breath when you’re waking.

I knew that you were the one I would cook for when it turned cold, last year. I got home, hung my scarf, and saw that you’d taken my forest green parka from the antique cedar chest and hung it up in the coat closet, making me ready for the change.