They stand there.

Observers of alignment, correctors of posture.

Issuing a few set of routines,

watching us struggle with a quiet, clinical interest,

uttering the required, banal scripts of encouragement.

Move. Keep going. You can do it.

Add more resistance. Shift your weight.

Thirty minutes. Hundred dollars.

A new client arrives.

The same instructions, the same routine, a different tone.

You can do it, honey.

#NaPoWriMo Prompt 30 –

Today, try writing your own poem that discusses a real or mythical being or profession (demons, firefighters, demonic firefighters) with the same sort of musing yet dispassionate tone.