Who’ll scan my job and scout
The strategic challenges that lie ahead of me?
Who’ll be my hanging wing-man
And place the pencil cross with laser touch?
Who’ll choose the tools and chide
My lax preservation of lithium cells?
Who’ll patiently banish rust from contacts
And soon revive the power-tool’s insistent torque?
Who’ll select the bit to bite the wall’s recalcitrance?
And guide my angle of attack and steady, steady it
Against the white emulsioned concrete?
Who’ll be the matchstick man
To plug the mortar of my unreliable first attempt
And safely hang the artwork from its helix thread?
Another picture sorted in the gallery of life!
But one job you left undone before you went,
Was how to fill the hole you’ve left us with?