The office is dark and the phones are all still

The office is dark and the phones are all still.

I’m grinding away at this mountain of will.

Then the Xerox machine starts to whir and to groan,

a mechanical ghost that is never alone.

It’s cleaning its rollers or checking its heart.

It makes me feel small, like a very small part.

The paper comes out with a static-filled snap,

clinging to my sleeve like a hand in a trap.