Two per cent

Two per cent of the files so far.

This anger is white hot. It burns, it’s fit to burst out of me, messily, dripping off my skin like so much lava, setting fires as it goes.

Two per cent of the files so far.

To hear a president say he’s been exonerated, to watch him alchemise lies into truths.

To learn a prince charged us for his once upon a happy endings.

To wonder who and what else will fall.

Two per cent of the files so far.

The too little, too lateness of it all. Two arrests, a bitter joy.

To knock at the door not for the power abused, perversions imposed. Brass tacks? It's the financials that matter. That’s what got the handcuffs out.

Two per cent of the files so far.

To understand it'll never be about the women but the institutions. To break the rules of the club is wrong. But it's a club that will not close.

Two
per
cent
of
the
files
so
far.

_______________________________________________________

25 February 2026. Drafted in a workshop on Voice in Non-Fiction led by Rae Earl, hosted by the London Writers Centre in conjunction with Eve White Agency. Rae asked the group to write about something that made us angry.

Photo by Alen Kajtezovic on Unsplash