9 to 5

Her hands
tremble.

Her eyelids pull
down like blinds
over her fading eyes.

All her world
is fading away:
overworked,
underpaid.
It’s a rigorous dance
a melody
that shakes the rafters
and breaks her bones.

Every day
she peels herself
from a moment’s
respite.

She sighs.

She cries.

She climbs into
her smoking sedan
and screeches into
the empty parking lot.

For a breath,
she stares.

The brick building hovers
like a nightmare
in her vision.

She stiffens her resolve.
She does what she must,
even when it feels
she will curl up and die.

It’s not so bad,
this 9 to 5,
and yet…

It’s killing her.