ANNUATED

One of my jobs in the office was to be

The One Who Doesn’t Know What’s Going On

So that, years later, I’d find out

That coldfooted Love had walked the corridors

And brightwinged Hate had banged on doors

And jammed the only good copy machine.

Others took comfort in my oblivion

Secure that I was unaware that this one

Was a thief and that one a saint

And this other a thief and a saint

 (I still haven’t worked out quite how

That was managed. Was she a thief and a saint

Alternately or did she ply her vocations

Simultaneously?)