New York Office
---- Big Frank Dickinson
She stands behind the desk in the sunlight
Surrounded and framed in deep darkness
That disappears unlit behind her
Beneath the three dim circles of this cell.
Her bare arms and shoulders frame her breasts,
Near the letter she holds in her hands.
She stares at it in such a businesslike way
As to force the question: why did he write to me here?
The street windows gape slack jawed at her beauty.
The building itself, in which she labors,
Proudly displays her to the world at large:
Look at the face of loveliness that
Emerges from this awful office
Poised motionless and bright, the antithesis
Of the furtive dark figures scurrying
Into the corners of the enterprise.
The sensuous softness of her curves welcome
The visible letter that came in the mail
Finding her stifling shed of employment
This sealed letter does her work annoy.
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