Thursday, 21 September 2017

A poem by Judi Sutherland


You say up front, it’s not PC, but still,
you’re going to tell it anyway, because we
are listening and, what the heck, it’s Friday.

So; this joke’s an opportunist in a lift
that’s stuck. Implied are cipher women
getting knocked about, knocked out,

knocked up, but they’re not real,
just women-in-a-joke, and they don’t feel
a steel wall slam into their cheek,

the fumbling of a beery, bristly bloke
who’s rucking up their skirts, and then
the shame, the hurt. They don’t react;

they’re disbelief, suspended between floors,
and just how rapey is it? As we fall
towards the punchline, down the shaft,

I just can’t answer back; in this tight spot
I sense that lurch and drop. I’m pressed against
these sliding doors that closed and will not open.

Judi Sutherland lives in Barnard Castle, County Durham. Her poems have appeared in a number of magazines including a Black Light Engine Room chapbook "Dark Matter VI".