Timber!

I like trees.

You can sit
under them
and write
about them.

The bosses
are like trees,
we sit under them
and write about them.

I like chainsaws.

I’ve spent a lot of time around trees, growing up in the hills of north and, more recently, in the depths of the Bialowiesza primaeval forest. Trees have been providers way before us lot started mucking the planet up with fuel, homes and paper to write on — this you know.

We are the lumber, but it’s those in charge who wield the chainsaw. This applies as much to prime ministers as it does to corporates and shareholders. The poem works on picket lines because of the idea of the many being at the mercy of the few. Replace the word “bosses” with whatever is strike-applicable and it goes down a treat.

Poetry on the Picket Line is a squad of like-minded poets putting themselves about to read their work on picket lines, in the spirit of solidarity. Invitations to rallies etc. welcome, contact facebook.com/pg/PicketLinePoets.