I Would Prefer Not To

It is a chest of drawers within which dwells

a whole society of tiny men

unweaving, mothlike, so as to weave again

the selfsame fabric; each worker parallels

his neighbors’ motions like the sine-wave swells

of the deep ocean. Rushing toward the ten

blessedly mandated minutes when

they pause for bitter coffee, yet each rebels

at repetition and at repetition’s

repetition; isn’t it, however,

evolution, God, or devil that

bargained the soul’s wages and working conditions?

Security a curse pronounced forever.

Who slaves, at last? Maze-maker? Or rat?