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Office Hours

Away from the world we are
caught in the net of that one unblinking eye.
Humble to our signed obedience we bow
before the icons. In the silence we hear only
the intoning hum of cyber life, everlasting,
and a chorus of cackling keyboards.
Defiled, we listen.
Beyond the blinded windows sea gulls
mock us in their freedom.
Here nothing moves
without a purpose, higher ordained.
None outside may come within without permission.
-password protected -
save the light, confined in forbidding tranquility.
Spectres; we watch our thwarted passage
into the Real World.
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Submitted on May 01, 2011

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Julia McKeown Claim this poet

Julia McKeown lives and works in London, England. more…

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    "Office Hours" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 25 Sep. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/80724/office-hours>.

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