A green activist considers the police state
There was a spy in my bed,
but I did not know.
I read about the malware on my laptop
logging every keystroke,
tracking every website,
scanning every download
for a sign of indiscretion.
I don’t write to my friends so much these days.
I heard about the wire on my mobile
filing names of callers,
noting times of chatter,
loading lists of contacts
into algorithms of subversion.
I don’t talk to my colleagues so much these days.
my ring-wearer, planted,
working me undercover, double identity,
licence to rape,
on her majesty’s bedroom service.
Our children, offspring of the secret state,
lost at least one parent to the shadows
when surveillance ended
and my phantom other half, faking like mad,
I don’t look at my family so much these days.
The law has fingered my collar and cuffs
and every inch of my anatomy
for the crime of having an opinion,
for the treachery of being free.
There’s a spy in my bed,
a spy in my head
I do not know.
‘A green activist considers the police state’ by Bruce Marsland won the first prize in the Sentinel Literary Quarterly Poetry Competition (February 2016) judged by Roger Elkin.