Picollus

By the great men & women

& the many others 

whose effusions may placate

colleagues squatting

in the next cubicle. No gods,

no masters, but sincere

belief in mercury retrograde

& wager a hanged 

man's hand: tallow for a candle,

a gambit to seal the contract, 

dread business letter format,

attachments: a photo  

of a drowned bird, a dead man's

W-4 soaked in WD40 to balm

the valve of heaven & this

hell of gruesome boilerplate 

& endless self-assessment, that burble 

is Picollus chortling in his temple

for he has a temple & you

have to find a way out

of this: third time's a harm;

quit meeting like this, someone 

is out for blood & the king

is dead & the queen is dead

& the angel who guards the door

is dead.