The Poetry of Office Meetings
My lower back hurts. The bend of the chairI’m sat on does not conform the way I need.
This tension creates a dull ache, no matter
How I move
I cannot escape.
The air around me is warm. Too much. Stale, maybe.
This air carries the sound of a voice
Speaking on important things, alongside other, smaller, voices
That hum in agreement.
But me?
I feel grabbed by the collar and flung back in time
To a student sat on another uncomfortable chair
(Though my back didn’t hurt back then)
In eighth grade, looking out the window at the birds
Flitting on tree branches
Moving their beaks to a song
I could not (still cannot) hear.
How did I defeat boredom back then?
I wrote poems on my notebook.
I have none right now. My hands are empty.
Can I write poems on thin air?
Perhaps. I can at least give it a shot:
Cast words into thin air, with glances jot
A verse or two though wearing a false smile
To fool all those who throw a stare my while.
Poetry by Sameen
Written on 2026-05-29 at 18:17
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