The cold the cold creeping into bones
(no matter the layers of clothing and
subcutaneous fat of which we rant)
as we sit or stand for hours on end
in this one place, a long sunless day
into evening no end in sight wondering
why on earth in God’s name in hell
we ever thought this might be a pleasant
way to earn our keep. The minutes creep by
along with all thoughts of remuneration
replaced by the simple desires for hot tea,
a warm bed, a scalding tub in which to soak.
