WOMAN AS RIOT “Then come curtain-lectures in the live-long night.” –St Jerome Our best shot was to ignore it—like a group of dignified mute let gravity herd our cries, take them into the earth. We could have stayed silent: a supple garrulous throat you like to jam things into; the pretty fatras for your soirées. Instead we clucked our way into your headlines, and now you’re worried and you’re fired and you’re stripped and you’re fired. In shock, we defame but we do not lie; categorically scandal, we make you sick, we pile on smear; and truly, your private life is no human right. Now you’re reeling and you’re fired and you’re worried and you’re fired. You purveyed more than the adventurous: you cultured fear, threw the bodies in our rivers and now they’re bobbing to the surface in the way the Ancients said justice would always come to light. Colluding salacious damage, they’re rifled, taken. Now you’re victim and you’re fired and you’re done and you’re fired because one of us opened her throat, and we shouted. _____ Annick MacAskill lives and writes in Toronto and London, Ontario. Her poetry has been published or is forthcoming in The Steel Chisel, CV2, and Arc. In 2014, she was longlisted for the CBC’s Canada Writes Poetry Prize and shortlisted for The Malahat Review’s Far Horizons Poetry Award. She is finishing her PhD at the University of Western Ontario in sixteenth-century French poetics.