A Day at the Office

The labors screech dull.
Monkeys eat
and pull out their
eye-lashes in supplication.
Beavers turn trees to impaling posts
for mummies to suffocate
though a corky-hole.

Fruit plates, cakes, an army of
the fattened, diabetic, gout ridden
robbed, forgotten.
A new desk lamp.
New task chairs.
Executive laminate.

WAIT A MINUTE.
I have it now--
Let's drink poison
and hold our guts
like totemic Andean children.
Let's die bound by wool
alive for hallucinations in terror.
My gums tighten.
When will I get new office chairs?
Centuries pass.
I am wrapped

alive for death

and yet I understand

the mechanism of

buboes and the oxidative stresses
only because I work until 3pm.