In Office
i used to wonder how they did it
when so many wounds were bleeding outside of their windows
and yet the alarm went off this morning
and i went to work
i dressed like it mattered
drove a car to a building to prove that
i was in fact in office and working
and drank a cup of coffee
while opening digital envelopes
the small talk tradition ensued
and i fake nodded and feigned listening
because that’s what you’re supposed to do
when there is no space to address the unrest
they’ll document your unprofessionalism for sharing
my coworker plops a strawberry into their overnight oats
and i am not supposed to think about
the child migrants who first plucked it for her
the meeting begins with an icebreaker and i’m supposed to pretend
that that’s the ice i care about destroying right now
i toss orange-stained tamale husks into the trash
in the breakroom and try to miss the metaphor
because i can’t find meaning in its acknowledgement
and i’m not supposed to mention it if i do
my eyelids are heavy with the weight of memory
and the strain of blue light, war coverage
but it’s twenty-two days until the rent is due again
and three hours until my boss wants to circle back
and the dull ache in my chest demands i bear witness
but the project tracker says to schedule that for later
the wounds are bleeding outside of my windows
and i still have to go to work tomorrow
