She from Central tells me
the Old Testament
 
does not say please.
The Ten Commandments
 
after all, command:
thou shalt and
 
thou shalt not.
Please has nothing
 
to do with it.
Or me, and my
 
totally inappropriate
way of looking
 
at things. Workers
can’t make rules,
 
she from Central tells me.
She’s responding
 
to my written comments
in her bigger, bolder
 
font. The big
font of righteousness
 
emboldened
by indignation.
 
She from Central puts me down.
And down.
 
I am a seed
in the warm wet ground.
 
Her anger rains.
I crack & grow.