Before the Honey

I clearly remember the last
conversation we had
before you honeyed me to death.

I recall you stood on
your last legs of youth,
determined, unexpected in my
front room, brandishing the
day’s newspaper like a
truncheon, smiling hard as if
your mouth was holding your
tired, suntanned skin on to
your face.

If I’m not mistaken you were
damp from a summer downpour,
hinting, pulling at sodden floral
cloth like dogs tug at
blankets for attention, uttering
pseudo-profound phrases
fresh from the footnotes of
organizational diaries, and
your gaze didn’t drift from me,
following me like
helicopter beams trace
urban criminals.

When I finally screamed and yelled,
demanded to know who
let you into my house,
you just laughed.
Then you held a dainty
finger to my lips like it
was the missing piece in the
indent of my philtrum, and
gravely accused me of
focusing on the negative in the
situation yet again.

Slow Death of Another Trade

I watch the fluorescent tube flicker.
I am still stuck here, but it’s dependable.
There are gentle erosions to mark the passing of time.
The bumper telephone message pad is almost finished.

I am still stuck here, but it’s dependable.
The fax roll needs replacing.
The bumper telephone message pad is almost finished.
Someone cracks a joke about women’s tits.

The fax roll needs replacing.
We are almost out of padded envelopes.
Someone cracks a joke about women’s tits.
Someone comments that all men are redundant and useless.

We are almost out of padded envelopes.
There are circulars about staff productivity to send.
Someone comments that all men are redundant and useless.
Someone kicks the photocopier and curses.

There are circulars about staff productivity to send.
A culling of inessential workers seems inevitable.
Someone kicks the photocopier and curses.
Poor budgets are blamed yet again for maintenance issues.

A culling of inessential workers seems inevitable.
The lift keeps jamming on the second floor.
Poor budgets are blamed yet again for maintenance issues.
The whole company seems in danger.

The lift keeps jamming on the second floor.
The union expresses its anger in no uncertain terms.
The whole company seems in danger.
Perhaps it would be wise to consider moving on.

The union expresses its anger in no uncertain terms.
Heads will roll about the static pay levels.
Perhaps it would be wise to consider moving on.
I begin to scour the classified jobs sections.

Heads will roll about the static pay levels.
Mass redundancies are said to be the most likely outcome.
I begin to scour the classified jobs sections.
I need work in a new trade that’s dependable.

Test - Ignore

This is a test post.