Trust
A dawn swoop and a daily audit,
A long and tortured paper trail,
A knuckle-rap, a little plaudit,
A grading system, Pass or Fail –
I’ve installed some crap detectors.
I’m inspecting the inspectors.
Monitors are great and good,
The prefects of the modern state,
Snoopers, most misunderstood,
Who aren’t there for a full debate –
A clipboard and some weird criteria.
That’s why they need me, their superior.
I’m looking at the ones who look
At what they think they’re looking for,
To bring them all to one great book
That has the majesty of law,
That preys on any inner fears.
I’m following the scrutineers.
And in the middle of the night
When stats are battling through my brain,
I wake, sweat cold, in quiet fright:
I’ve had that nightmare yet again.
Inspect inspectors? Yes, it’s fair.
But someone’s standing on my stair.
Click here to read a Telegraph article
Click here to buy Bill’s poetry collection Ringers
Click here to buy Bill’s poetry collection Impossible Objects
