Office Politics
Say not, let there be light, but darkness visible. William Hazlitt
She knows that those
who don’t figure much
on others’ maps,
are more easily defined
than those who are like cities,
where lapses can be subsumed.
Though most of the time,
She’s as dishonest as a sundial.
But occasionally, her words
are a spade
sliding through dark soil,
hitting stone.
And then there’s:
Could I just ask your opinion on something?
and she tells me about a ‘situation’
involving her and an ‘unnamed’ person.
And I feel respected
that she has trusted me
and can’t help but sympathise
the way she puts it
but know that this person
could easily have been me.
And I feel like the bird
that has flown through a half-open window.
Or the spring workmen
closing up another road,
to tarmac over
the cobbles showing through.
Tristan Moss lives in Sheffield where he works as an English language teacher. He has had poems published in Magma, Obsessed with Pipework, Snakeskin, The Journal, Ink Sweat & Tears, Word Riot, Elimae and Alba. He has also just had a pamphlet published by Lapwing publication (Belfast) entitled Disclaimer.