Bo-Arts || Woman of the Year (Part 3)

Bo-Arts is a bi-weekly art/literature initiative. Twice a month,  Boshemia will share creative writing and visual art submissions from our readers and folks who identify as feminist to give a larger audience to emerging creatives. Our goal is to provide a platform for feminist artists to share and discuss their work.

This issue of Bo-Arts, Woman of the Year: Part 3, is the third installment of the poem-and-photography collaborations brought to you by a duo from Frederick, Maryland, USA.  Anna See-Jachowski is a poet and feminist thrilled to be working with Boshemia. Anna, her partner Matt, and their four cats live in Frederick. Emily Jessee is a young feminist creative who uses platforms like photography to portray the harshness and vulnerability of the world around her.

Artist’s Statement – from Anna
 These poems are part of a series I plan to self-publish this year, titled Woman of the Year. Each poem represents a period in a young artist’s life in which they find love, a muse, and desperately seek the meaning of that experience. The five poems are a taste of what the series will offer, and explore the deadly combination of desperation and anger felt when a lover leaves;  the lovely vulnerability of falling asleep around people you love; the ritual of hedonism in summertime; and finally, the artist’s banishment of her muse for the sake of her own recovery from trauma. Read more of Anna’s artist’s statement here.

photo by Emily Jessee



i stand,

a totem-

grain and paint and

an eternal joy that cannot

be weathered or defaced.


my core is far

from your cigarette fingers,

your touch,

from your apocalyptic


(the world used to freeze for us.

i used to believe in an all-consuming flame.)


i am beyond

pagan idolatry.

i am stone and wood and flesh and

i am real again.


no longer trapped in

junkie dream state,

no longer the grip of

spanish hands on my chest and thigh,

or your ghost

filling up my lungs so full i cannot breathe

without choking down

your whispy dancing feet.


i stand

in fields of native sisterhood,

my own offering.

i walk

in roads hardly paved but

lined with farmer’s markets and

saturday morning soul rituals.

i sit

in the company of my own thoughts,

tea brewed,

and remembrances organic.


i am not dying.

i am not dying.


you are just a man.

Read here for Woman of the Year: Part One and Woman of the Year: Part Two.

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