RDW's poems

Hot Desk Dirge

Three years of hot desking is getting me down
My hold on reality’s slipping
It’s not I’m complaining – except that I am
– but life is more maudlin than gripping

I once had a job, I once had a team,
I once had a place to fit in
“It’s only five months” they told me back then
Still waiting – on hold – to begin

On my father’s farm each cow had a place
a stanchion, a manger, a name
But I’m a hot-desker, less prized than a cow,
sullen, despondent, ashamed

Someone should pay for this iniquity!
But sad to say – that someone is me

June 2009

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