lunchtime black

She sits
only for an hour.
But,
there is no golden revelation
at the bottom of a snatched paper cup.
No answer
between nervous bites
from a wilted balsa wood sandwich.
Not even
a smile to the sun,
as she beats away the swarm
of office edicts,
will set her free.
Just a hope
that she is not another face
amongst this conjurors’ madness of souls.
That alone
may see her through.