The Boss
Whose coat has sleeves made entirely of wristwatches
and whose tuning-fork tongue resonates
at the exact frequency of the overhead fluorescent lights
(washing all color from our faces),
who can be communicated to only through timecards
and who dictates with paychecks.
Despite a love of proper procedure, whose head whirls
bingo tumbler, random number-ball generator.
Two orbs settle into whose sockets, roll to show their numbers,
and watch until an eyeblink, whereupon they are sucked
back into whose skull of disordered thoughts to be replaced by two others.
But in my head there is an empty darkness and a young foxglove
growing in the thin light through pinprick pupils.
Workplace pulse comes from whose bilge-pump heart,
whose office consumes my thoughts. Listen carefully:
(this flower is poison) when I say you’re the boss
(this flower is rage)
I want you to know exactly what I mean.
and whose tuning-fork tongue resonates
at the exact frequency of the overhead fluorescent lights
(washing all color from our faces),
who can be communicated to only through timecards
and who dictates with paychecks.
Despite a love of proper procedure, whose head whirls
bingo tumbler, random number-ball generator.
Two orbs settle into whose sockets, roll to show their numbers,
and watch until an eyeblink, whereupon they are sucked
back into whose skull of disordered thoughts to be replaced by two others.
But in my head there is an empty darkness and a young foxglove
growing in the thin light through pinprick pupils.
Workplace pulse comes from whose bilge-pump heart,
whose office consumes my thoughts. Listen carefully:
(this flower is poison) when I say you’re the boss
(this flower is rage)
I want you to know exactly what I mean.