Almost everyone is dead
at the place where I work.
I used to take the incessant
tippety-tap
coming from all these rooms
for typewriter sounds
but we converted to PCs
so many years ago
and the noise remains
so I’m sure it’s the bones when we move.
And the things we approve of!
The deals we cut, backs we scratch,
hands we wash are surely sign enough
that any souls we knew
long ago flew this crypt.
Lately I’m not so choosy
about the choices I make
or the look of my work
and I don’t mind the
smell at all
so I fear I may be dead as well.
I know these things
I’ve been paying attention.