The Queen’s Intelligencer

The Queen's Intelligencer

I feel like a spy in my own country,
snapping secret photos full of
operational intelligence:
how wide is that river? how deep?
is that mud or will boots grip?
is the bridge defensible or
easily taken in a coup de main?
if tidal, when is high, when low? are there
fortifications? landward? seaward?
are they expecting us?

Wait a minute—us?
For every “us” there is a “them”.in which
category I felt ensconced,
so when exactly did I step onto the
slippery slope between
“them” and “us”?

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