Spying - by Vera
Crouching here
spying in on the Boys,
I am suddenly counting
how many
days of desert
I've scraped through -
have I worked for them a whole month?
I am raw,
like I've been itching
scratching on a cheese grater,
still
not trusting Lon
still doing crunches to make sour stomach
subside.
Hunkered in the scrub
with a crackling breeze at 6 am,
I spit out bile,
pissed off.
At Lon.
The Boys.
Tilly, Milo, Dempsey especially
the whole frickin mining town,
Carole, the Motherload,
maybe Amy,
yes, Amy.
Pissed off.
At myself.
