Mandarins (revision) //Rik
- From: Rik Roots <rik@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Wed, 11 Feb 2009 22:57:54 +0000
Mandarins
---------
(This being a True Account of an Occurrence taking place on the
Second Floor of No. 1, Horse Guards Parade, in the Offices above
the Chancellor's Suite, working Necessarily Late one Evening in
the Month of March, 2006)
It takes a glance to catch him: don't look -
he's there! See him stare across the room,
a man lost from his time, bemused by desks
and phones, dividing screens, fluorine lights
that makes his inky fingers glow. He frowns
beneath his wig, a blot of mud still wet
around his calf. Why is he here? His arm
curls round parchments, briefs and notes
with cotton ribbons wound about. When I turn
my head a touch he starts, returns the stare.
I smile: 'see us', my eyebrows arch, 'both lost
inside this Treasury, too poor to seek escape'.
Rik, knee deep.
.
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