Late for the bus

Posted on February 1, 2016

They sweat, those standing around
the hole in the pavement, gasping
There is one in a digger with his arm
shuddering, cascading against mud and sometimes against rock

We paused around the tape
voyeurs gaping at the wound, protruding
pipe-ends like butchered veins
and those men’s solemn faces,
pillaging the bones of the earth.