Maggots
(The following poem was written by Adelaide blogger mike-servethepeople during the Ark Tribe campaign and after the death of Brett Fitsch at the Pt Stanvac desalination plant).
Usually it’s the road kill
or other dead flesh
that creates the maggots -
but on our jobs
it’s the maggots that create
the kill and leave
dead flesh.
Maggots who are bosses
supervisors
stand-over merchants
made bold by the
“tough cop on the beat”:
those slimy maggots
of the ABCC.
And the dead flesh is his flesh
the flesh of my mate
the one I worked with
the one you knew
crushed by the beam
electrocuted
fallen from the height
and always the potential
that it’s your flesh
or my flesh
created to meet the deadline
the line of the dead
the shortest distance between
the two points of
here today and
gone tomorrow
the shortcut to save money
and lose lives.
When the maggot says
“I’ve got a deadline to meet”
introduce him to that line
of mates who died on the job
and say, “My body
on your deadline?
No way, you stinking
little maggot!”
And when the ABCC
comes knocking: “Oh my name
it is Ark Tribe
and I ain’t gonna
talk to you….
Maggots!”
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