image courtesy of Magpie Tales
There was a Flurry
There was a flurry; I heard the wings and turned:
A flock of ideas pass in the fall of light by the elevator door.
Mindy’s whisper and the muted ringing--handset phones
Remain in all of our cubicles, as we remain part of the assembly
The office still requires.
Now, I have to pick the tangled feathers from my hair,
Although I could twist them tighter,
Swirl them together,
Hang paper clips from the sharp shafts,
Press push pins into the soft skin of my ears.
Will you recognize me with office supplies pressed to my skin,
Coils of ink tracing the flock’s passage?
These are your whispers from lunch, and Keri’s pens
I borrowed last week, stabbed through the tangles,
Plastic and metal clatter as I nod,
Inscribe my sighs on the walls:
Carpet creeping up, like polyester mold,
To keep our screams quite as our phones.
Startled ideas, fleeing the beeps and pressure rising
Along the empty shafts ahead of those elevators,
Rising like a front along the corridor, beat my head blank.
Watch them go, indecipherable in the afternoon,
Hammering the sky through the windows,
As we cannot.