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The Poetry Warrior (c) Abigail Beaudelle - 2008.
All Poetry and artwork (c) the respective artists.
All Poetry and artwork (c) the respective artists.
The Tale of the Office Manager and the Suicide
Michael Thorne
Replies to a phone call in the next cubicle – reception – foretold
his delay, the inevitable dissatisfaction of his arrival
at some later interval.
It was further foretold by an exchange
between the receptionist and someone whose voice
I did not recognise – delay at Ashford, thought
to be due to signal failure. ‘I’ll let him know
you wanted to talk to him when he gets in.’
I type an email to look like I’m working.
His arrival is heralded by the usual
click of the electric lock, the faint
swing and crack of the glass door as it opens
- a moment of calmness - before he huffs
and puffs into the room, dropping his paper on the nearest desk,
jangling his keys as the door returns with a click
to exclude all but those who are wanted, needed.
A force of character enters the room
stomping and slapping in a manner more distinctive
than the usual office skulk
everyone holds their breath in anticipation
of what he will say, this probably
the only chance of drama that the morning will provide.
“Some selfish cunt tried to kill himself.
I hope he fucking succeeded.”
Michael Thorne
Replies to a phone call in the next cubicle – reception – foretold
his delay, the inevitable dissatisfaction of his arrival
at some later interval.
It was further foretold by an exchange
between the receptionist and someone whose voice
I did not recognise – delay at Ashford, thought
to be due to signal failure. ‘I’ll let him know
you wanted to talk to him when he gets in.’
I type an email to look like I’m working.
His arrival is heralded by the usual
click of the electric lock, the faint
swing and crack of the glass door as it opens
- a moment of calmness - before he huffs
and puffs into the room, dropping his paper on the nearest desk,
jangling his keys as the door returns with a click
to exclude all but those who are wanted, needed.
A force of character enters the room
stomping and slapping in a manner more distinctive
than the usual office skulk
everyone holds their breath in anticipation
of what he will say, this probably
the only chance of drama that the morning will provide.
“Some selfish cunt tried to kill himself.
I hope he fucking succeeded.”