I want to rip up your flipchart,
Stick your post-its in the bin,
Mess up your straightened hair,
Wave my unshaved legs in the air.
I’m done with this posh room consultation,
This air conditioned lack of imagination.
Let’s find a bigger dream than this room can hold,
Be bold as the roses climbing the garden wall in leaps of fragrant red,
As the well-fed blackbird on the Rosefield roof,
In open- throated song for a mate.
This stakeholder is breaking out of the break out rooms,
Unlocking the gate.