An hour for lunch
- C. J. O'Brien
I get an hour for lunch, but on a roster
From eleven until three
This week I was from twelve til one
The numbers saved me.
Thirty-three saved but twenty-nine lost.
Our fund is closed. Pay them your money instead
As even Greymouth does the maths
Of living, surviving and dead.
Probability doesn't care
It isn't fair, doesn't balance the books
The enormity of earth's great reactions
Don't stack up, don't add up - to what it took.
Stocktake reveals anomalies, errors in audit
The page burns with the non-linear
Human love, warm and dear,
We get up, crumple the paper, throw it away.
And, like we always did - we check on the neighbours.
• C. J. O'Brien lives at Hawea Flat. She is a mother, teacher and author.
