"We are claiming for our bodies the right to take up space."
I was still folding wee paper packages, the morning of the wedding. Inside were the seeds for a sunflower garden, and a duet of recipes typed in tiny fonts — one German and the other Scottish.
I used to sit in your kitchen, or you in mine, now we each make coffee and sit with our phones unpack what has accumulated since the last time
Today's is a Julia sky low and late light sears into chimneys sweetly butters the number five speed sign on the side gates to the brewery
A ONE EYED CERAMIC LION A PAINTING OF A WITCH A PAINTING OF AN ASIAN WOMAN MANY CAMEL SADDLE BAGS
"When tasked with creating something about the connection between women, I thought of the multitude of times when women I had never met before recognised my circumstances, and stepped in."
i tried not to look at her smile because i didn't think it was for me but later she said that she looked at the pink sunlight on my face, which was nice and reminded me of the time we flooded the flat and how she laughed
"My grandma had breast cancer. Every morning and every night, she would pray for us and for others. It's nearly fifteen years since she died, but I still feel our connection — our love. She inspires me still."
"In the first week of September 2015, cruising through Facebook, I saw the awful pictures of children’s bodies floating in the sea — strewn on beaches and people crying out for help as they fled from war-torn lands. Like many others, I felt despair and an awful pointless voyeurism. Then, up popped a Facebook post from a woman called Moxie DePaulitte."
'Isabella's Secret' is a poem that tells the story of a working-class matriarch. She had 'no time to sit.' However, her journal tells a different story, and forms an unshakeable bond across generations and experience.
"I'm just a fiery sort of person," she said one day. Now, every time I think of her, I think that word — fiery.
'One' is a piece taken from Cordula Marks-Venters, work in progress, illustrated novel: Beyond the Half-Dead Stream. The story follows Isa Raichenhall and Leoni Stein — an impossible couple in 1930s Bavaria.
"Female solidarity; what does that mean to me? I’m transgender, openly so, and I lived as a man for over forty years before transitioning to live as a woman."
'Hanista' is a drawing by Fiona Glen — inspired by a photograph of her good friend, Hani, stripping in the woods on Mont Royal, Montreal.
This poem is dedicated to survivors of sexual assault, and comes with a trigger warning.