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.

Related poems

Related authors