Granted

The carpet is a shade of beige

that makes me want to scream.

I spent three years praying for this door,

for this desk, for this quiet air.

My first paycheck is sitting there,

a neat rectangle of blue ink.

It’s exactly enough to pay the rent

on a life I’ve already outgrown.

The ceiling light hums a flat B-flat.

It flickers every seven seconds.

The coffee in my mug is cold.

I'm finally here.