When the boss walks in my neck goes numb.
This head well-shouldered pulses and there is indication
of internal hemorrhaging; as happened to a grandmother once
during a time of great unrepentant stress;
there is naturally an attempt at concentration,
then he speaks and a spreading stiffness is my body
as rigor mortis, a quivering plank, an unbending tree;
his peering to my cubicle is an unsuccessful attempt: I am
the busiest worker alive: it is an act: fretfully, there is concern
that he sees through me; and I try to piece together his thoughts;
my bloodshot eyes burn, and one whispered to the side:
coming here is not healthy;
it is an involuntary cringe at the sound of his footsteps;
over my shoulder the look; I am safe for now, he is
visiting the back room.