The 8-hour office

They placed her in their 8-hour office
numbed her soul as they closed the door
locking her in like a bird
in a cage, demanding it sing
to impress eager visitors.

She spun in their office chair
(without the excuse of childhood)
took their humdrum pen to command
tedious technical information, but
all that came to her was poetry.

When they returned later to see
how she got on with their work,
they found an empty chair
spinning indifferently, and
marveled at her disappearance.

She found their tasks a
prosy impossibility, you see,
and she angered at the sheepish
nature of time, the clock
that couldn’t quite keep up.

So rather than wait time out
she inhaled tasty breaths of
otherworldly air, clicked her heels together
and disappeared indefinitely into her
ravenous imagination.