There is an altar here–
facing the supply cubbie
flanked by the printer
(bedecked with Post-it notes),
computer at my alternate elbow.

Stray crackers sit open
next to the pen and paper and glasses,
mid-snack, abandoned.

Paper, tape, scissors
stapler–all adorn this
secular cum sacred space.
How so?
I folded my hands 
in prayer and decided
to break bread
(and spoon soup)
at my husband’s desk
on a Saturday.

There is poetry (and prayer) at work.
~~~~~~~~~~