Melody The Comptroller Poem by Michael Philips

The pentameter of her speech,
the ease of her solos behind the beat,
and the silent pronunciation of her presence

Another excuse to consult with her,
feigning a passion for sums,
raising a plausible concern about auditors

Holding the budget compilations to my face for her scent,
reaching for her across an ocean
to a tiny, glass-walled island
where she is the grandmaster
who crushes me with a few moves
and I feel honored to be in the presence of greatness.