Discontent

A downlighter soaked the back of his hair.

“We’re just not made to be people who say:

‘In five year’s time’ – we’re big enough!

How do we put that in the graph?

I’ve no idea what the others are doing.”

 

Three sprang to clutch the stand,

but were beaten back again; “No!

What we’re trying to do is give positive feedback;

business works by interaction”,

and his a finger stabbed at shadowed knights.

 

The room mustered, the table shook,

heads strained back to folded arms,

a pencil spun, a pen cocked,

disinterest is thumbed to a hidden keys

and one bends to gather his sword.

 

“I’d rather it was done in a collective sense,

everyone knows their true skills –

we should represent diversity”.

Another turns to his wrist and lips sotto voce,

and there’s a mutter of eyes shed right and left.

 

 

The circle slumped, the going near.

“Will more be involved in our destiny?”,

but this has become a colouring book,

an agenda creased to unequal squares, and

with a guttering of a candle in the darkened chamber,

 

the assembly fell.