My Desk

I cling to my desk,
taking a desperate sniff
at the dark red mahogany
and kissing my computer screen.
Common sense grips my ankles like a vice.
As she tugs, I hold on harder.

I cling to my desk
and pretend that I don’t see,
that baby prefers nanny to me.
Guilt wraps her tentacles around my heart.
I free myself with expensive clothes and toys.
“I work for my child” I chant.

I cling to my desk.
My husband does as well.
What I imagine, what I have not seen.
The whiff of strange perfume,
the lipstick smear,
make our marriage “just there”.

I cling to my desk
and doctor shakes his head.
“You should take it easy”
he constantly says.
Ill health winks at me from the corner.
I dodge her with vitamin supplements and Aloe Vera.

I cling to my desk
hating my collegues.
Fearing my boss
and absorbing the hostility.
That one day I’ll give back,
in the same measure that it was given to me.

I cling to my desk
and won’t let go.
Though my world may crumble,
of this I’m sure, this I know.
I shall hold the appearance of true success,
regardless of the cost.

Copyright 2012, Owolabi Deborah Adeyinka


4 thoughts on “My Desk”

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