In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
I scrape the gummy mess from the desks, the wall:
the nametag of a favored student years before,
then two more I can’t remember well.
I walk again down an empty hall
avoiding all the needful things
and the true horrors that they bring.
Instead I’ll feed the paper-shredder sheet by sheet
or some other mindless chore.
It’s best not to dwell
lest I accidentally complete
one of the great undoable tasks;
better to sweep the floor again
than to ask the questions we must ask
and ask, and ask… till kingdom come
and the ruin of the world undone.
For now, another desk. What then?