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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Australian-born, with English mother, has lived in several Australian cities and in London. Travelled widely. Way way back when, published widely as a poet and short story writer. For the first 20 years of my working life I worked as an entertainment journalist, publicist, PR consultant and in advertising and media agencies. In the second 20 years, I worked in marketing roles at non-profit organisations then retrained as a teacher, primarily teaching English to non-English speaking, newly-arrived refugees. Also did miserable McJobs, and a long, happy stint at an art gallery.
