It's hard not to imitate
  Who she is, ease yourself in
To the things that remain here,
  The wall of quotes: "Ah...lunch time!"
Or: "Man is a creature whose
  Substance is faith. What his faith
Is, he is." Easy to ape.
  But now, on her desk, new work
Awaits, new words for counting,
  Oddly plumed birds on the hunt
In their quizzical ways to
  Untrammeled inlets for love
And tiny fish. Discarded
  Tissues of reportage, news
Become ink on the finger,
  Whiteout, piles of stray printouts
Left for her to sort. And still:
  "The whole comprises the parts."