Caius Ramsden-Board Ellie Wood {Foreword, by the poet} I wrote this poem following the tragic death of Sarah Everard on the 3rd of March 2021. She was walking home alone on a well-lit city street and was taken by an off-duty Metropolitan Police officer. After a few days missing, she was found dead and brutalised in a forest 30 miles south of London. As a man, it is uncommon for me to experience the anxiety and precautionary measures that most women feel forced to take, due in part to events like this. I felt helpless; it seemed too inordinate a problem to tackle, but as a believer in the impact that poetry can have. I decided writing a poem in her memory, that could display the magnitude of the issue at hand and the disturbing experiences shared by too many women worldwide, would at least provide some solace and illuminate the topic, at a time where it was most needed.
Builder’s bag full of female, rotting in Ashford Forest. Her face is staring at me; She’s still alive, smiling. She looks just like me. Minced. Identified dentally, Ingrained mentally, feels like hell to me. Flowers crushed underfoot, piled to the clouds on Clapham Common. She acts just like me. When I crush a moth, for no good reason, her name will always flood my mind. We are all just meat, after all, if a man decides it so.
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