The Secretary Chant

Last week in my Intro to Literature class, one of the poems that we read really entertained me. I'm not usually a poem person because they confuse me and I really just don't enjoy them. This poem, "The Secretary Chant," is one that anyone could probably relate to. I found it especially funny because of my job at the office. As much as I love my job, sometimes it can be really stressful and I feel just like this woman.

The Secretary Chant

My hips are a desk,

From my ears hang

chains of paper clips.

Rubber bands form my hair.

My breasts are quills 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 in 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 wonce

was

a woman.

Margie Piercy, 1973