Inches of
Dust
smother the newel post
stairwell menace, coughing glass
Vibrates an empty stare.

witness!

corporate art.
Shipped “prime” overnight.

Metal skulls nod away
The inches of dust,
Formulating seesaw rhythm
For
Handshake gall.

Leather coffins
Shelter dead hypnotists.
What’re the latent promises
Fixed in the prime interest rate?

Temporal
Gifts
Estranged from
Their
Masters.
and
QR stamps
Mitigated
For
Litigious
Marketing.

Food burns in the breakroom microwave,
Stores its vapors inside the smoke alarm
And unleashes high-pitched trills that
Mingle with police sirens,
Like jigsaw pieces finding their pattern.

A janitor removes a box of sanitizing wipes,
Purchased on the cheap and cleans the burn marks
Out from the microwave. Before throwing the wipes away
She cleans the dust off the newel post too.