Hail the humble (we’ll call her Miss Q)
The quiet one in meetings
Breathing silent spatial relations
In her unspoken mind
Like wool passed many times
Underneath the table
Miss Q doesn’t need glasses
In corridors and boardrooms
Like a detective, she sees beyond
Through transparent screens and skins
Two-faced smiles, folded arms
And the rubbing of hands
Miss Q reads cues
Through thinly guised veils
Of obnoxious self-importance
Ego tussles and torn reputations
Where a battlefield undercurrent burns
But no one yells, “Fire in the hole!”
Miss cal-Q-lates the risks
Aspiring chiefs speak over her white flag
Correct her in front of peers
According to their own preferences
They do not ask for her opinion
Gather buy-in, or guarantees
Miss Q is discerning
Determining sweet from sour
The secret story to her success
She holds her tongue
And swallows only what is good for her
She has read all of the small print
Miss Q makes a memorable tamarind curry
