everything
soft petals cushioned by lips the
words fall from his mouth withering
grey under office lights. slow. no reason to.
rush. he tells me in razor barbed phrases
pushes them around. carefully. red ribboned letters.
leg quivers under the table as he twists and
mangles words, fires capital letters at me, the
afternoon light twitching in
death throws on the surface of the desk.
he turns me inside out so everyone can see
what’s inside me, the entrails of my life
autocorrected. aggravated ctrl c ctrl v.
at arms length from his class in his suit the violence of black ink on a screen that will decide, will decide. everything.
poem by Greg Baines