Work

Like time 

I turn problems into dust

crushing them in my fingers 

in my fists

until the ash of them 

falls to the floor

as nothingness.

That’s why I’m stuck at work

as if to fly paper 

struggling to free myself

everyone has a problem 

they want me to handle

to take into my grip

and make right. 

It has been 

one of those weeks 

like every other week 

where questions seep up 

from the concrete 

in the numbered aisles

and messages and emails

follow me into my home 

and watch me as I rest. 

I have trouble pretending

that I can’t perceive them 

I can see them beckoning

from the corner of my eye

I can hear them whispering 

until

the only answer is 

to return to the citadel

and chain myself back 

to the desk

then I can relax

because all this work 

is in safe hands.