How would you feel if everyday from 9 to 5 you hear, fix me a cup of c take outee, secretary; file these papers, secretary; schedule a stick outing, secretary. This intone reminds me of the one that Cinderellas stepmother and sisters where hypothesiseing when they wished the house straight and to sustain this young lady from attending the ball to meet her prince charming. Although that written report was fictional, Marge Piercy managed to change the tune from a Cinderellas chant to The writing table Chant. She describes the duties and personal public opinions that female secretaries argon too claustrophobic to say because they may lose their jobs for taking a stand. A stand for what, you may ask. A stand to be case-hardened as a human being and not as a machine. As a secretary myself, I am empathic to Piercys feelings. Each day that I go to my job, I oddment if my employer pick ups how important I am to her business. Do she really understand that without a devot ed secretary her business would be in total chaos? Marge Piercy brought my feelings to life with this poem. She starts off with the commercial-grade enterprise on how she has become one with her environment, one with her desk and the supplies that underscore it. My hips are a desk. From my ears hang chains of paper clips. galosh bands bod my hair. The lines start to paint a physical explanation of what she (Piercy or secretary) feels as though she is becoming.
She continues describing her appearance with the lines breasts are quills of mimeograph ink, and feet support casters. The sound in this poem creates a feel ing of manipulation and mindlessness to the! reader. My matter is a badly organize file. My head is a switchboard. Please get Judge Days companion on... This was a bad topic choice to start off with, a bit superficial. But considering that, its well disected. Last separate (conclusion) you faculty want to add according to Piercy... somewhere in there. If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com
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