She is the early news
that brings report
of some disaster in a far-off land,
a car abandoned on a country road.
The dollar weakens, and the horse
you backed falls at the fifth.
She is a storm forecast,
a cyclone building over western hills,
rough winds and rain foretold
rattling boldly at your door.
She is the sports result,
always this close to bringing home
the shield, this near to being
first across the line.
She is a book review. Opinion split.
‘A beginner’s piece’ that shows
‘some brilliance’. The best advice is
borrow it, don’t buy.
She is the soap, whose episodes
include some drama and some tragic flaws,
both character and plot.
She is the Talkathon,
her froth and fribble deftly teasing gold
from your back pocket.
In a good cause, my friend:
in a good cause.
She is The Final Word
before the box falls silent
and she sleeps. She sleeps