by Mark Sargent
before you get up in the morning
you’re fired
even before morning, the graveyard
shifts beneath yr feet, nothing’s been dug for hours
and you’re fired
the ole pink slip showing
beneath a tattered frock
walking papers without shoes
shit-canned with no opener
in an open forge, three wee folk jumping on the bellows
and the smith takes one look at yr weld and
you’re fired
grab yr shit and go
don’t come back
close the door on yr way out
from a cannon towards a frayed net and the lion is loose
you stand before the time clock but your card isn’t there
and yr mouth is awful parched and yr co-workers are
giving you the look that whispers, ouch
or whew
in the human kiln turned up to minor sun intensity
but glazed, yr eyes, three folks at home counting
on that pathetic paycheck
we don’t think you’re going to work out
we’re sorry
you’re done
history without economics is bunk, sd Ez
and no doubt
you’re fired
that’s the story with an ending only
that’s the saga cut off at the knees
oh please won’t you reconsider
but no
and that concrete ‘neath yr feet
is harder
than that bastard’s heart
and you don’t really
have anywhere to go

0 thoughts on “Fire

  1. Maybe I’m not supposed to be laughing my ass off while reading this but i was having a really bad day and this cheered me up. Perhaps that means i’m a vituperous sadist when i merely fashion myself as a surreal humanist. I’m fired! lol.
    “…and that concrete ‘neath yr feet is harder than that bastard’s heart and you don’t really have anywhere to go.” Compelling flow with a fresh take on the most feared workplace invective. I also appreciated the vernacular idiom here and the abbrev. of your as ‘yr’. Thanks for sharing, Mr. Sargent.

  2. This seemed to be sort of an accidental poem that came through an email chain we’re on. It was in response to a Dan Raphael poem, but we felt it stood so well on it’s own. Thanks to Mark for actually giving it a title and letting us post it.

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