CONTROL Poem by Joke van Leeuwen

Someone rings the bell, says he's an inspector
who's come to see if everything still works
he doesn't ask permission 'cause he wears
a uniform whose buttons weigh in too.

Under the cushions he finds some misplaced coins
under the table a child in concealment
under the sink a liquid that can kill
behind the window panes the view is still.

He draws conclusions from a diagram
he knows the codes and does it point by point
he has a handsome bag that's made of leather
gel keeps his hair in shape, his fly is open.