i resign,
yet you ‘need’ the tilting
tower of papers
signed,
daunting line after
dotted line,
but why? what power
do these hold
over your
head?
does the absence of
my name haunt
you while
asleep?
and do you
sleep?
will you wrap yourself
up in my transaction
to warm you
in bed?
of course not,
it’s policy..
my pauper’s pen’s low on
life tho i’ve a feeling
there’s ten more
in the wing,
and i’m sure you’d have
me sign each blank
with hand in
a sling,
++++
ok, you
win..
..on the outside, but how’s the weather within?