I am an amalgam

of all the women who have gone before me.

The desk I sit at

is no-one’s, really

but Sarah once used it.

My emails are sent by

Theresa@domain, who I’ve never met

and signed by Wendy – Accounts

who I have.

My stapler belongs to

Photocopy Area

So does, at times, the clear half of my desk

beside the machine

And lately

I find myself writing

with a pen labelled “Abbi’s”

(My Word docs are

Authored By Mark,

whoever he was)

I move, and I become Mel —

her chair, her phone,

her emails, her grit —

but only for the evening shift

Or Tracey

with the contracts

and that temp girl,

whatsername again?

And perhaps when I am gone

some brave soul will sit


She’ll open a doc named /templaterachel

and for a time

she’ll be me, too.

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