“Light like sugar cane.” by Julia at her desk

Thursday October 17, 2019
8:30am
5 minutes
Daybreak
Gerry Lafemina

It was all you could do to stop the thud in your brain
thhud thhud from the last bit of morning sleep
the first heavy fall you’ve had and thanks to him

Thanks to him for refusing to let you cross rooms in
the dream and for holding you unapologetically so the
whisper of waking hours wouldn’t touch you until it was time

And you almost stayed in the bed, but you rose, and planted
a kiss on the back of his neck instead, sending him back
to the last place he was without shivering

If he had asked you to reprise your role as Warm Body In The Cold
you would have forgone morning light for sugar cane
and he would not have had to ask twice

The head is soft again but the stomach is loud and nothing
seems to line the shelves long enough to act as promise
amidst the already fleeting

Your lack of math or belief in numbers ruins your oatmeal
you pour too much hot water in and think you might just eat
it like that as a reminder that you skipped some crucial steps

“Light like sugar cane.” By Sasha at her kitchen table

Oct 17, 2019
11:11am
Daybreak

Gerry Lafemina

Light like sugar cane through the kitchen window and you’re wild with belief, whirling dervish of possible outcomes. You dream of rivers and oceans over and over, research water metaphors, read poetry written by women who came before their time. You meditate on the round stone in the park garden, grown over since summer’s ripe peach, sun is still here though, sun is still here. You were once groped by a man on a crowded train, ass and vulva, rubbed top to bottom, or bottom to top depending on who is telling the tale. You said nothing. This haunts you more than the time you cheated on the first man you actually loved, more than stealing fifty dollars from your grandmother’s handbag, more than lying to your friend about why you couldn’t make his birthday dinner (a new beau who turned out to be a sour stale egg, barf barf barf). You looked the groper in the eye, though, that’s one wee bit of action you took. You made it clear that you saw him, in his unshaven violence, in his hand violating the body of a woman, of a fawn.

“you need to do better, Kev.” By Sasha at her desk

Monday July 1, 2019
6:50pm
5 minutes
From an instagram story

Kev keeps bringing me chocolates and I’ve told him not to a million times and he just keeps doing it and I don’t know what to even say anymore. I’ve asked him nicely, like, “Hey, I know you are trying to do something sweet and I appreciate you for thinking of me and bringing me a gift but please stop bringing me chocolate.” I’ve laid down the law, “Kev, I’ve told you before, do not bring me chocolate or anything sugary!” I’ve even tried to be really honest, “I do not have a healthy relationship with these things and having them around isn’t good for me! You need to do better, Kev!” But then, he comes to visit last weekend and what does he arrive with? A big ass box of Purdy’s. ARGH!

“Intelligent, quirky, passionate” by Julia at her desk

Tuesday May 15, 2018
11:44pm
5 minutes
from Quill and Quire

Let them see all the good colours
the ones that the sky knows in the morning
and when the sun decides to sleep
Let them see them in me
Let me

I am too tired to write a lie
Everything is coming out neon green
If I had more time I would spin a web of almost truth
And you might get caught because it wil be beautiful
It will blow your friggen mind out of your skull

let them choose brains over braun
quirk over perk
passion over rations
Let them pick the harder one to be
Let them learn how
Let me

I wish the bed didn’t sink in the middle
I wish Chicago wasn’t trying to recruit me so persistently
I wish the edges of this soft made you cry for once instead of me
I wish I didn’t need to do everything in the same line format

BREAK THE FOURTH WALL AND DO NOT OFFER TO PAY FOR DAMAGES
DIP SUGAR INTO A SALTY THING AND BOW DEEPLY
VOLUNTEER TO GO FIRST
T
R
U
S
T
YOUR EMOTIONAL LIFE WHEN IT IS HOOKED UP ALL THE WAY DOWN YOUR SPINE

“And for some reason these men fit the bill.” By Sasha on her couch


Monday, August 31, 2015
11:53pm
5 minutes
Cowboy Poetry
(ed)Hal Cannon


She likes the sweetness. Kate. A name like a blank page, like a sky at dusk. Kate. She adds honey to her cereal, sweetness, sweetness, and stirs a cube or two of sugar into her tea. Her mother never let them have anything refined as a kid. She ground her own flour. She soaked chickpeas on the counter. As soon as Kate could she bought herself a Crispy Crunch. She ate a bite a day for a week. She rolls up her carpet before doing her exercises.

“I am a taffy snob” by Julia in the stairwell of the Artscape Youngplace building


Saturday May 30, 2015 at the Artscape Youngplace Building
4:01pm
5 minutes
From a text to Julia

I was in Halifax when I tried my first piece. Salt water. Perfect Melting New Religion. I bought 6 lbs of the stuff and threw out a pair of running shoes and a flask so I could fit it into my suitcase.
Emmy said, “I would have taken those shoes!”
Taryn said, “you know you can buy that stuff in Ontario too, right?”
But I knew it wouldn’t have been the same. It was like entering a childhood backwards, and experiencing something that was never mine but felt like it was meant to be. Now I don’t go for any old taffy. And why would I? I don’t hate myself for Christ’s sake! Why would I walk if I could run? No scratch that–FLY.

“YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO” by Sasha at her desk


Wednesday June 18, 2014
11:34pm
5 minutes
The Winnipeg Sun

Me and Gemma are walking home from school. We take the long route, vis-a-vis the parking lot, vis-a-vis the park where I know that Henry smokes pot but he always refuses it. vis-a-vis the convenience store. Here’s where the trouble comes. Gemma is, like, not allowed sugar. She is on a dairy and sugar free diet. Her mother says that she’s allergic to both, but I don’t know if I buy it because one time, we were having a sleepover and Gemma accidentally ate a fig newton and I know there was sugar in it and NOTHING HAPPENED. SO, we get to the convenience store and I say, “Hi Miss Chow! Three sour keys, please!” And Gemma just looks, like, so sad. So I say, “You should just get whatever you want… I’m not going to tell anyone…” So she goes over to the freezer section and gets a tub of Chocolate Häagen-Dazs. I’m like, “Whoa! You’re really going for it!” And she just looks at me, like she’s on that line between laughing and crying.