Photo credit: VCCP | Interview by Zoë Brigley
“[There] were scaffolders banging outside our window ‘talking loud’ shouting and swearing… I wrote this poem in my phone notes app whilst we listened to them and made ourselves a tea”
Bants
The scaffolder knows he’s talking too loudly
— making a show of this woman — with one eye on the other blokes —
he holds out his phone — laughs at nothing —
they join him in chorus — playing cartoon — everything landing so heavy —
— he knows this woman has seen the softest parts of him —
— she flirts with the team — pulling at herself — she argues about the time
she was fat and pregnant — he goes —
— you know what babes, you looked fit even then —
at lunchtime someone will throw something — they’ll laugh when someone
doesn’t catch it —
I imagine this woman — like all good women I know —
taking another small phone — from a small handbag — in a small bar —
holding out one arm — looking up — pouting —
knowing this will be the one
he’ll show
— to the blokes on the scaffold —
come Monday —
There’s something very nice about this poem. Perhaps it’s showing the banter between men and women which is not toxic, is not harassment, though it can be that too sometimes. Growing up in a working class community, I remember this playful kind of banter. Is that what you were thinking of ? It makes me wonder too who has power in this relationship. Is it her? Is it him?
As a writer with working class heritage my writing and ideas seem are often concerned with how women hold themselves in settings where the gender roles are typically defined. When putting together my latest publications Makeover from The Emma Press & Spin with The Poetry Business I really zoomed in on the interactions between women and their surroundings. How we hold spaces and each other and how this can changes depending on generations or location — thinking about what is expected of us and playing with the idea of being the loudest or quietest in a space. In ‘Bants’ the poem becomes a kind of film set with this women holding her own on the other side of phone screen. Between you and me I think she has the upper hand even if the blokes don’t realise it.
The form of the poem is interesting, as well as the enjambment. How did this poem develop on the page?
This poem was written in lockdown when the whole of the flats was ‘working from home’ — the flats were falling to bits and there were scaffolders banging outside our window ‘talking loud’ shouting and swearing whilst my housemate was trying to teach her primary school class online. I wrote this poem in my phone notes app whilst we listened to them and made ourselves a tea.
It wasn’t until revisiting the idea in a writing workshop that I found my layout looked a bit like scaffold. This version is very similar to way I originally typed it up. I tried some other forms but then left it alone and knowing I’d come back to the original.
The dashes seem to be important here too. Are there any writers whose use of dashes inspires you?
I am obsessed with dashes, I might use them a bit too much tbh, and maybe not ‘correctly’ but they work for me when formatting work like this — I try and think about writing for my mouth so when arranging my words on the page I think the dashes give the pauses and help frame the phrases like here.
I don’t know that many ‘dash-heavy’ poems although I do remember reading writers like Richard Siken and Andrew Macmillan and realising that my poems could take on various shapes with or without punctuation.
I often experiment with longer lines and a many of my poems sweep the page like this (sorry to anyone who has ever had to format one of these!)
Laurie Bolger
Laurie Bolger (she/her/they/them) is a London based writer and the founder of The Creative Writing Breakfast Club. Laurie’s work has been widely anthologised & has featured at Glastonbury, TATE & Sky Arts. Laurie’s first publication Box Rooms celebrated community and her W10 roots. This year Laurie was the winner of The Moth Poetry Prize and was shortlisted for The Sylvia Plath, Bridport and Forward Poetry Prize. Her latest books include Makeover and Spin celebrating the resilience of working class women, autonomy and love.