Hot Pink Post It Note
One Neck to Throttle
read the note on my boss’s desk
my name in all caps
.
Power suit
I like that you wear suits was my first performance review
as a new supervisor. I blinked at him in the silence that followed.
Anything else? I asked.
The power of suits had been debated in school, with the
women from other countries asking why American women
tried to dress like men, pinstripes straightening our curves
to the clean lines of a stick insect. It stopped spider eyes
from inching up your thighs.
The other option was to stand firm in your pumps and pearls
And pantyhose and be introduced as a delicate flower.
They might be lulled by the perfume the scent, never expect
a bee inside the petals.
Or there were situations where the beige and blemishes
of a dead leaf butterfly was the way to fold inside
anonymity when a bully slashed the conference room.
The other night I had a dream that I needed to pack
for Geneva to stand with tariff tables for talks with China,
and then remembered I had given all my suits away.
© Jean Janicke
Jean Janicke resides in Washington, DC with her husband and two cats. She took her first poetry class during the COVID pandemic and has been writing ever since. She also enjoys dancing, reading, and walks with friends. Her work has appeared in Yellow Arrow Journal, MockingHeart Review, and Nine Muses Poetry.
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