I am currently taking a self-teach poetry course and one of the exercises was to look at the environment around you and write about it; though I do not work in a call centre, my current workplace does feel like one at times. I hope you like what I have written.
The Call Centre
Darkened windows mirror the gloom,
PC screens stare wantonly;
"It's got October!" She screams as
the PC pushed itself harder.
"How long ago did you download?"
Never. "Is there an 'R' next?"
Brilliant white, star-like lightening
stares down on the brow.
Heads throb as the day wears.
Cluttered spaces; shattered faces;
empty gazes; waiting for the call.
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