POEM XXXIII: “CUBICLE FARM”

There is no dweller there
who has not pictured themselves
elsewhere:

Broken away from the honeycomb of walls
to wash over the sea’s surface
in their square, fluorescent-lit tub.

Lifted on an elephant’s back
in a wobbling grey-paneled box

Or lifted into the rainforest canopy
a tiny treehouse with computer, mouse and ergonomic chair.

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