“I am not the idea of Aisha. / I am Aisha.”
Poems and ephemera.

So the Second Thing I Bought Was a Mirror

by Aisha Sasha John

Digital Project Published on July 25, 2017

Something softens me

Softens my desire Something helps me breathe Something spills out my pores as light Something Is like hope blanketing me Something bleeds as me Bleach On a stain On a blouse In the day Fading at the sink. I scratch my head to flakes. I return to My reading.

The first knowledge is of our ignorance. Hi.

What’s seeable and not I join For those to whom I’m betrothed.

I am the bride of your listening.

I sleep in a room.

I store clothing there. Outside my room is a hallway That leads to a door Beyond which Is a street

In a city In a world In which I live too. I live in this world. I live Today.

I’m of a time. It will know its name When it is over.

When I am dead this time Will be an object And I Will be an object Too.

That’s okay. Right now I am alive And I like it.

My boobies are soft.

There’s a vast Coldness behind my waist.

The sky.

Dec 31, 2014

I have left prime sweetness Between the tight teeth Of some hurried days.

Let me now keep it. Jeez, it’s the année’s Final creeping night.

My name is A’isha But has it Kept its promise.

I lie on the bed. I lie very still. I cry.

He thinks I should be glad because they

Like the idea of Aisha. I am not the idea of Aisha.

I am Aisha.

You I know you

Love the idea of Aisha.

I am not the idea of Aisha.

I am not the idea of Aisha.

I am Aisha.

Adornment is exaltation enacted.

I am an earring of the Lord.

I fold in half

Documents destined for the shredder. I leave flat the ones to be scanned into patient charts.

I consider how long stickers have rested on the glass Protecting me from potential Disease and violence Of the people.

The first time I came here I was late, I was scolded, I was bleeding. I barely even cared, fuck Look: When I start to bleed I have to eat.

The year of being selfish. The year of being relaxed.

I am eating someone else’s cashews.

I think it was smart of whoever’s idea I am To be me.

I’m not gonna die of love.

And I’m not

Gonna die for shame.

Except I will die of love thank God.

My heaven meets me in the day.

My heaven meets me in

Your company

And yours.

And yours.

And yours.
And also

Yours, hi.

The reassuring thing about life

Is that no matter how things turn out I still get to be Aisha Sasha John.

At the very least I have that Honour always.

Although last week I was pissed.

The goat

He has to bray To pull his rope leash in the light. He did it again in the black-blue sky of my leaving. It is death. He has to fucking bray Because he is Alive and Tied up.

I asked Fadwa what A phrase meant; It had hooked my bad ear and what She said is it meant You should be Shy.

And then Manuela said my buns were horns Were my tied-up Sex. I released them. Je ne sais pas how to say this en anglais mais My selves: I suppose we Gave me a course Making our soul of a fitness enough To scorn you But not enough to Not scorn you— D’accord?

So the second thing I bought was a mirror

Framed in wood. And then later Hot Torn into bread steaming Strings its Maker to my mouth. When he (not him— Another guy) When he put the Walnuts in my hand The point of the meeting was Touch Sort of a very small, like, sex. After that I bought some oranges Also available for purchase in my country though to be honest It doesn’t Make any sense— They don’t belong here.

Here Isn’t good enough for them. Little baby oranges with the stems on (PRAISE GOD) I eat three In a row The skin is loose On the flesh but still Sweet. That arrangement has a different meaning in my country. In my country if the flesh of the fruit isn’t tight to the skin The flesh it is not sweet; my country gulp Is Toronto.

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