Clague Page 2

My Turn

I was summoned, not to a conference room,
but to my boss's office
and -- like you know
before the doctor's lips part --
I knew.

He stood up, as nice
as if I were a new hire,
and offered me a chair.

The walls didn't move.
The ceiling, anonymous
off-white, stayed put.
The floor remained flat
as the bottom line.

The Letter lay on his desk
like a puddle of pus.

Eliminated ...?
My job --
the hours, sweat, heart,
even love I put into it --
mere waste
passed through the corporate anus
without a trace
of odor, not an ounce
of animus?

My career -- for the rest
of its tiny eternity --
downhill from here?
No more the big bucks,