your flat fingers clack

                  easy over the keys

feeding   pa t t  er n s   of lies into

your calculating machine of righteousness

only following

                              your calling,

                                                       doing your work  

                                                                                          you reassure

then b

               e

                  n

                     d

                         i

                           n

                              g

                                 to hold, scrutinize

thin strips of paper

d

r

o

p

p

i

n

g

out of the ex machina like

t

e

a

r

s

never

e

n

d

i

n

g

( s)pooling onto the floor

 

©lorraine & her frilly freudian slip