Poem Hunter
Working Through
FJ ( / )

Working Through

Pushed away, an ice cold cup of coffee on the board,
Since yesterday, undrunk and unsaid, papers shuffle
To the left and further from the window. Nothing
Is but a little different everyday. Serene and click
The clock tick, the printer’s drawl, the whir fuzz
Of traffic streets and radiator and computer.

A paper cut, stings out and fades, a streak of blood
On the spreadsheet rubs out over time. She goes
To wash the cup, a ring of brown builds up, a scar
Or a memoir revealed on draining. Forgotten or
Filed away under alphabet, in plastic, under lock,
In the dark with the strip lights stripped off.

A reminder, on the shelf in neon, flipped, ripped
And flailed clear of a post-it pad. Remember it
Says. For the days where the blinds slide back,
The dawn comes up, inevitable flood, to sweep
Clear the old routine and instil the meetings on
The planner. Remember what this cannot say.
You ramify like birthday after birthday.

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