Poem: The Firing, Liberally Commented

It is the beginning of April, 100 score and 9.
“Come with us.”
Pulling me from my work, confusion and apathy warring.
Door closes.
“We’re letting you go.”
Forget to breathe.
Is this a joke?
“Sorry?”
“We’re letting you go.
You haven’t met our [impossible] standards, [even though we said you were].”
Details are explained, though my health has never really been their concern.
“I know it doesn’t mean much, coming from me, but I’m sorry.”
Venomous, desperate, the wounded manticore strikes:
“You’re right, [asshat], it means
NOTHING
coming from you. This is shitty.”
I know you feel guilt,
somewhere in the slime.
You’ll find no solace here.
Move along.
I gather my things,
wrap them up in what dignity I have left,
and call for help from my sister.
They rid themselves of
strangeness,
diversity,
value.
Still performing illegal acts,
still as ethical as Bluebeard.
I am better off where I am,
down the road,
where my work and person are
valued,
wanted,
and appreciated.


I have not been inspired of late, so Poem-A-Day is something I will try again later. In the mean time, other things that crop up will be posted.

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About Shawna Jacques

All posts subject to change without notice.

Posted on 2011/06/23, in Poetry, Tales from Life. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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