For someone who insisted she would
Not do anything she couldn’t admit to
midnight copper cockroach
crouched on asphalt pavement, inner
city face concave – erratic dark vermin
in the alleyway oblivion –
across an empty lot, strewn with rubble and tattooed
(the shadow-net cast by the meshed wire fence)
she scurries, feet scraping
alert: rapacious watcher
metallic and uncaring
She does know (or course)
It’s a dreadful thing to do
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Worked in the Australian rock music industry as a journalist and published widely as a poet before moving to London and spending the better part of a decade in advertising agencies. Returned to Australia and tried teaching, primarily teaching English to non-English speaking, newly-arrived refugees but also briefly as a high school classroom teacher. Has travelled Western Europe, North Africa, Russia, Northern India, East Asia, coastal USA, some Pacific Islands, and Australia.
