It’s a Sunday afternoon, and the board have called an emergency meeting. This is their seventh emergency meeting of the year. It’s February. A line of white men pour into the conference room, all visibly shaken; some of them are wearing golf clothes, Mr Evans is still in his pyjamas. His lazy Sunday had been snatched away from him. His wife was at home making brunch for him and his two children when he got the call.
“Thank you all for coming at such short notice,” said Mr Johnson once the men had been seated and the hubbub had died down. Patricia, his secretary, was staring at him from under her glasses, as she sat in the corner ready to type up the minutes. She had half a mind to just copy paste the minutes from the last emergency meeting. Maybe next time she would, just to make a point. Then again, maybe she would just get the point across by staring at Mr Johnson from under her glasses.
Guest post by Juliette Rapp. Juliette is an American post-grad gone rogue who moved to Rome last year in search of “something to write about.” She hopes to one day move to a small village in a seaside cliff, become a recluse, and write taunting letters to her student loan providers. In her free verse, she writes about navigating the lexical gap between bilingual lovers, at once made Other by their cultures and the emotional residue they bring to each other.
We have just finished making love. I am lying in your bed,
vaguely aware of the differences in our consciousness.
In the stillness, I blink away the seductive sirens of sleep.
Bo-Arts is an ongoing arts and creative writing initiative to give a larger audience to emerging creatives. Our goal is to provide a platform for feminist artists to share and discuss their work.
This selection of poetry is brought to you by Jenny Moran. Jenny is an Irish student and writer. She co-founded Trinity College Dublin’s feminist journal “nemesis” in 2016, and has been previously published by Icarus, Campus.ie, and Unpredictapple.