DriveTech UK

Queuing at the barracks
to have our driving skills checked,
we make a group of miserable looking people
dressed in khakis, browns and blacks,
some of the elder women with jewellery
making a stand: we shall prove ourselves!
The younger ones casual, one teenager
with one earring, the men in trainers.
Their clothes duller than their normal outfits,
jeans in tatters where you follow the holes,
no piercing involved.

We are on edge, raising the stakes
by trying to look cheerful, even cooperative
to the faces of the presenter, our instructors,
to each other.

Like lambs to the slaughter or keeping
emotions at bay,
showing determination after the accident:
look how brave we are, we will learn,
we will improve.

Except for the bandaged woman, not yet
recovered from the shock
of three generations nearly wiped out
by one wrong move,
her large eyes still asking and staring
as in another time zone,
as if still covered in blood.