I HAVE KNOWN THE FEELING. But Thankfully, Not For A While Now. YEAH!

The Secretary Chant
Marge Piercy

My hips are a desk.
From my ears hang
chains of paper clips.
Rubber bands form my hair.
My breasts are wells of mimeograph ink.
My feet bear casters.
Buzz. Click.
My head is a badly organized file.
My head is a switchboard
where crossed lines crackle.
Press my fingers
And my eyes appear
credit and debit.
Zing. Tinkle.
My navel is a reject button. From my mouth issue canceled reams.
Swollen, heavy, rectangular
I am about to be delivered
of a baby
Xerox machine.
File me under W
Because I once
Was
a woman.