Susan's photographs have appeared alongside some of her stories in Maclean's, Chatelaine, More and Canadian Living.

My feet feel the cold from the damp cement floor
A chill runs across my shoulders
As I walk into the room.

I am alone
But a presence whispers to me
To come further into this place where I have danced a thousand times before.

The bed, made of cherry-wood is from a different time
A breeze ruffles my hair and blows the white linen curtains
But it is not from the wind that stirs outside
It is from you.

I feel you. I feel your presence all around me.
In front of the balcony door that stands ajar.
In front of the broken mirror that reflects only the black of my hair, the green of my eyes, the red of my dress.

I want to say a prayer and leave this place that haunts
To never return to the depths of this room
that lives within me
where you hide in crevices, in darkened corners, in places I have cordoned off.

But tonight I stay.
I lay my head upon the pillow and close my eyes
In the bed where I have slept a thousand times before.
And I dance

February 2000