I can hear the muses calling
'Though my hands are tied with work
And ghandarvas sing through cracks
Beyond the off-white office walls.
I know I should be free with them.
But instead:
Sign here,
Date there,
Keep the tally,
O reckoner of warehouse sheets!
The condition of modern slavery
Of entire paydays spent at once
While knowing that a human life
Is more precious than the profit line.