Phoenix

Could you see me there?
I’m barely aware.
My stomach barely consumes.
I’m like an old crumbling railcar
a trundling broken ruin
all aboard flimsy stilt-like legs,
obsessed with the working and doing.
I’ll crumble all down
to my component parts
resurrect as a remodeled office.

Just to burn myself down
And roll in my ashes
like a lonely phoenix for cash.
I'd sing my last
and then rise again
with the flame returned to my wings.
Because as an office
I rarely sing
I muddle, secure my roost,
waiting, praying for spare moments
when I can let my fire run loose.