She's Judge Dredd in black tights.
Wolf-whistles die on men's lips
as she strides on site in hard-hat,
steel toe-caps and a bit of lippy.
She'll have a joke with the lads
but she won't take shit
from some smart-arse contractor
who thinks he can pull one on her.
She knows the building regs backwards,
has instant and total recall
of all the project specifications,
the way lesser mortals know pop songs.
She can spot a cracked flag
or misplaced bollard at fifty paces,
gauge tolerances to the millimetre
with the naked eye.
It's like the weekly shop.
She knows exactly what she's looking for.
It won't be where it was last time.
But it'll be there. And she'll find it.