The Road to Home

Jammed securely into this chamber–three
by five–of numberless numbers, dripping
like Inga in August, my flushed ears listen
to the roar of reticence that permeates
our hive of heavy bodies.

Eyes oscillate between clocks and computers
as fingers flutter and shoulders shake beside
document drenched desks.

At five o’clock, smiles spread thinly over our
flagging faces, even though, for us, the road
to home
leads nowhere.