Poetic justice, a new short story by Moya Roddy
A young woman attends Cúirt and court in the same day and suffers the consequences
October 14, 2021
F***in’ mad, Stacey thought, eyeing the crowd milling outside the theatre. Imagine goin’ to hear poetry this hour of the morning. Across the entrance to the building a large banner blazed: Cúirt International Festival of Poetry and Literature. The word ‘Cúirt’ had a fada on the ‘u’. Stacy wondered what ‘Cúirt’ meant? Something to do with courting? Isn’t that what her granny called snogging? Having a good court, she’d say, except she pronounced it curt. Not that Stacey could imagine her granny kissing anyone. Or anyone kissing her. Still she must have done, otherwise her ma wouldn’t be here. And if her ma wasn’t here she wouldn’t be standing outside a poxy courthouse waiting for her case to be called. Her granny shoulda kept her tongue to herself.
