Posted by: John Looker | 26 November, 2015

Éminence Grise

“Not this door, unless you’re feeling brave.
That’s the cave of the yeti, the Head of Accounts.
No-one goes in there unless they are summoned
and no-one knows when they’ll get out.
Even the big chief
comes when he’s called for –
he comes down the corridor
almost out of breath.
The person to charm him is poor Miss Jones.
She seems to come out unharmed,
and Deidre-by-the-window swears
that he took her to lunch on her birthday.”

© John Looker 2015

This is number seven in a suite of eight poems that tell us about a group of people who work together. I have been posting one a day. What will the last one bring, tomorrow? The first was posted at:


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