Line Item

Strike through this line; not needed now
pinkslip sent priority mail
job canceled–report no more;

arbitrary cuts with human tolls loom
while judges wax pitifully about their own woes
then feed their children fresh greens in the winter
of another’s doom.

“Don’t worry, there’ll be another job,”
in ten or twenty-two months time,
After tuition due dates pass
and wedding bells toll silently,
How hard the news stikes.


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