“
Now reading
Wide Awake in a Field of Deadbolts
Slight whiff of toner, or is it White-Out?
Brief heat of manuscript
lifted from the printer, against my face.
What is it about the new hire
that has everybody talking?
Her newness, perhaps, her éclat
cutting through
each of us, like a sword
through wet bamboo; it’s a graceful
violation. And then the water
breaks, and then a darkening
sky rolls over the lake, and then
a meeting is called to introduce her,
to make her understand,
to allow her to share in our delights!
Here is the coffee machine, there are the filters.
You may store your lunch
in the communal refrigerator, but please
remember to empty yourself,
all of you. Feel free to decorate
your cubicle with pictures, tack up a view
of the lake behind you
to remind you of the lake
behind you. Don’t listen to those of us
who are certain
of the small death
each photo you tack up represents.
Familiarity breeds
intent, intent signals purpose,
purpose is a proposition you make to those
who observe, quantify
and assess you; and use as many legal
pads as you like. And the retractable pencils,
they’re all yours. Marigolds.
Sunflowers. Black-Eyed Susans. Just keep it
yellow. Paper cuts will happen. Band-Aids
are in the top left drawer
in the kitchen,
next to the cake-cutting knife
we pull out for anniversaries, birthdays,
retirements, record days,
or the first time you see all of us converge
on the conference room, leaving you alone in your cube.