Monday, 17 December 2012
Partnership
One phone touch and I’m sucked
back to work:
banana bread, espressos,
emoticons, evaporations in a water pitcher;
acronyms, strategies, margin loans
in air-con the skin grows plastic,
and blank like the office orchid.
Tuesday, I was scared suitless
of breaking out a mistake
leaving the team
with a lost reputation.
My mouth filled
with nail clippings
the thunderous
rumours of the unannounced
lunch invitation –
Overstrung, overtaxed
overweight, but amazingly
– not fired,
promoted!
Crowned
in a laurel of tax returns:
the best,
the youngest
freckle on earth;
a fine sandwich
on a large silver platter.
Switched off, Saturday bounces;
I hunt and gather
in the hardware store,
farmer’s markets, bonsai clusters;
inspired without pay.
Open day without a tie;
I am uncomplicated as a hole puncher,
certain as a paperweight
longer than a bullet point;
In high relief, at home, I’m no file name
or page number, date, dead line or late;
have no itch to eject from my new leather chair
my sag and bones, paralysed by responsibility.
I’m a sharp magpie with an open beak
shaded in magnolia,
fresh and styled with sleep,
that’s made it to noon.
Heavenly blend of naked
arms, no alarms and mess.
Self-time is blessed
yet, lasts as long as a thumb;
after weekend rest and affection
the want to work is stronger,
with a wide sky energy, skin
exudes elastic happiness
I charge across the earth,
wild flowers behind my ears.
Johanna Featherstone ©
