WITH bent neck,
and wept face,
and shaking hands,
this overseerer learns
to hide in this ball
and chain, called,
f...king, me.
WITH strained attention,
and slippery black shoes,
and a failer to listen,
she spits at the fan,
and curses the fat sun.
DAVID GERARDINO
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/23-fitzroy-road-puppets-and-keys/
