by Nick Gisburne
She climbs to steal the current where she can,
Between the stacks and coils, where power leaks.
Her fingers touch two terminals to span
The strongest dirty feed she’s found for weeks.
A leecher stream connects her to the grid,
But nothing there is tracking her tonight.
To know she roams these clusters as a kid
Would set her troubled mother’s hair alight.
The volta vessel, reading fat and full,
Is quickly capped, another put in place.
With both on board she wipes with diesel wool,
The scene soon clean of any telling trace.
Enough to lift her mother’s weary smile.
Enough to keep her breathing, for a while.
