I said What and she said Cheating: Poetry by Sasha Fletcher


let us hold hands as we walk through the fire

……….We were in the kitchen making dinner
when she asked me if I was cheating on her.
I said What and she said Cheating
and I turned the knife around so I could wash it better
and I said Yeah no I got that part
I meant What are you talking about
Why would you say that
and she said That wasn’t really an answer was it and I said
No? and she said Really? and I said Here and handed her
a dish to dry and I said to her Well if by cheating
you mean have I been having sex with other people
while living with you in a committed monogamous relationship,
then yes, I have been cheating and she said Fuck you.
……….We were in the kitchen and dinner was cooking and she said
What if I told you I’d been sleeping around,
like a lot, like whenever I was at work I just spread my legs
to anyone who would glance at them and I said
You mean those legs there that I think of fondly
and she said Yes these
and brandished them in front of me
like some sort of weapon.
……….We were in the kitchen and dinner was still cooking
and she said Is dinner ready yet
and I said It is not and by the way I said
I am fucking someone else and she is pregnant
and I am thinking of asking her to live with us
like a member of the family
and then I got stabbed in the neck.
……….We were in the kitchen and dinner was still cooking
and she said Is dinner ready yet
and I said No I said You just asked me that.
……….I said to her The thing of it is
I have been all around several other women during our time together.
I have told them tender things,
full of feelings and also promises. I have told them
I will always love them
and that what they have done for me
is a unique and beautiful thing. I have told them
you have never loved me like they have loved me
and I have never loved you like I love them
and then they put their lips around me
and I sigh.
……….She said If I told you I loved you I’d probably
have been lying at one point. These days she said
I’d call you a brick tied to my neck
or a prison sentence in the tundra maybe
but that just doesn’t seem like enough.
……….I told her to dream bigger. I said
Like a building. I said imagine me
as an enormous screaming building
full of endless need and want and screaming
all the time about wanting to have sex with you
especially when you are just trying to have a conversation
regarding dinner, or checking if the laundry got done.
……….A building she said Is not bigger than the tundra.
……….Just once she said
I would like to have an actual conversation.
……….We were in the kitchen
putting dinner on the table
and the freeway was experiencing
some sort of holy moment and the lights
on the cars held perfectly still
and they stayed like that forever.

Sasha on Amazon.com

photo: Marcus Hansson / Flickr

About Sasha Fletcher

Sasha Fletcher is the author of the novella when all our days are numbered marching bands will fill the streets and we will not hear them because we are upstairs in the clouds [mud luscious, 2010], and two chapbooks of poetry. He lives in Brooklyn, NY.


  1. Alexis Rhone Fancher says:

    What a terrific poem! Thanks for turning me on to a wonderful poet.

  2. ah…. fresh breath. I kept wanting to read as I went along. thank you. much.

  3. Beautiful, Sasha, totally sustained… never lets up, glad to see some of your words tonight

  4. FlyingKal says:

    Thanks for sharing.


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