Reprimanded for an act of insubordination
during peacetime. In a humming office of terminals
filling cabinets, African cleaners and tea machines.
There are no bullets flying over no-mans land
but there is an unspoken fear.
And there are pens…
No Ypres mud or Paschendale carnage,
no chemical attack,
but a soft corporate carpet,
picked by committee.
And in meetings about
year end figures
pie charted feeling
you sit with a 1000 yard stare,
shell shocked in a reclining chair.