Posted by: John Looker | 21 November, 2015

With Sceptre And Orb

Push open this door
with the name of the firm painted across the glass
to be greeted by a peremptory “Yes, dear?”.
A matron, in her bosom, at her desk.
She is keeper of the knife
that opens envelopes in the morning,
mistress of the switchboard, each wire a nerve
she may cut without warning.
She will show you around – having studied
your credentials unhurriedly – her voice carrying
through corridors and stairwells
while at home her little dog lies sleeping.


© John Looker 2015

This is the second in a suite of eight poems that I am posting each day for 8 days. Each poem may stand alone, but together they tell us about a group of people. They are also a return to the theme of my book The Human Hive which looks at life through our experience of work.


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