I rub your face with my sweat slick hands
Hands I sat on and rocked waiting for you to arrive.
Hands that were as cold as they were filled with anticipation.
My ass was cold through thin trousers made of cheap cotton sewed by small children.
Children with big eyes and brown skin.
Children that for a difference of a few years, looked just like me
I smelled my sweat and the cold wind hitting it just so that anyone who came near me would know … “Yes, winter sweat, that is what I am smelling.”
This intermingled with the rusty bench, cold and metal.
These scents existed in a loop my mind traveled across paying attention to each part in a sequence, over and over.
All while waiting.
Fluids fell out of me as I anticipated you.
Your feet stepping on concrete.
The feeling my eyes sent my hands as always imagining caressing your coat when I saw you before burying my hands diving past each layer.
I always sought skin.
I wanted to find where I could feel your life…pulsing and tell you with my fingertips how much I loved you.
I couldn’t with my mouth because it would scare us both but my hands could whisper truths to your spine.
I know your heart would hear.
For now, sweating and waiting.
A heart bursts open to reveal a tender moon that no chains can trap
nor hands can tuck away
No light and uncertainty to fall away from an ache that began with your being,
pressed into the backs of your eyelids
etched into bones
Desire demanding and breath revealing
through murky water that spills
into an ocean of ancestors tears
Terror follows with tides and teeth
Relief is a crumbling in cracked hands
You cannot pray the ocean away
Alive or dead, the water will drown us
Deliver our bones
Bloated and betrayed
In water where there is none
Lean into my chest and let go.
Fat belly Bella laying it down, as I get up and pull you close.
Rewrite the rush and find your rhythm as it grows soft and warm
Sweet and sticky…
Do you remember the last time you melted, onto my mouth like the honey pooled at the bottom of my cup of tea?
Feet flutter in blankets, and hearts beat in chests.
Can’t butterflies get a minute to fall back and stop resisting?
Hearts in gentle hands.
Blankets and sighs
Find me here.
Hello my name is Jassie Justice,
I am an Intersex Femme person who is mixed.
I am South Asian and Caribbean. I am mixed.
I am settler living on colonized land known as Toronto, Turtle Island, land of the Haudenosaunee, Anishinaabe, Mississaugas of the New Credit, Huron-Wendat and other Indigenous peoples.
I am living with an invisible disability and I have Complex PTSD.
I am a survivor.
I do facilitation, community education and workshops.
I am a poet, writer, multimedia artist, performance artist, sex worker (on hiatus), a yoga practitioner and theoretician, as well as being deeply committed to understanding and continuing to heal mutually constituted oppressions and trauma.
I resist and fight back with love and passion.
If you would like to connect with me around my work, please contact me via:
I was always the witch.
This is a word in a tongue that is not mine but will do.
I am terror when you make me the other, but if you stand with me I become possibility.
Find me in the woods, sharpening my axe, sewing my bags, and waiting.
Smell the blood. Lick the earth, and listen for my laugh.