Bureaucrat

(a villanelle poem)

(photo credit: maksym-kaharlytskyi-Q9y3LRuuxmg-unsplash)

Speak to me nicely. Do not cause me grief.
Wait your turn with patience while I proceed …
I am the chief assistant to the assistant chief.

Whatever you do, don’t challenge my beliefs -
I know the way of the bureaucrat - it’s my creed.
Speak to me nicely. Do not cause me grief.

Fill the form correctly, read small-print underneath;
we process applications at the usual speed.
I am the chief assistant to the assistant chief.

This job is boring - I need some light relief …
I’m human, not a machine - I also bleed.
Speak to me nicely and do not cause me grief.

If you get angry, I’ll simply bear my teeth:
to the bottom of the pile you’ll go in my inbox feed.
I am the chief assistant to the assistant chief

so do not charge in here, demanding “where’s the beef?”
I am the one with the piece of paper you still need.
Speak to me nicely and do not cause me grief;
I am the chief assistant to the assistant chief.

(© Joshua F.D Bond)