this fragile tent

I’ll not miss your snarling e mail

Or your apparent hysteria over things instantly forgotten

The ever worming mobile phone can canker itself

Into your flesh now-

For I am leaving

~

Neither will I miss those meetings around a table

Shadowed by glooming suits where

Words land like shot partridges

The elephant can trumpet in your ear now-

For I am leaving

~

I’ll not miss those twin pincers

Of guilt and responsibility

That claw me just before dawn

My pulsing vein has a fitted valve-

Now that I am leaving

~ by Chris Goan on May 14, 2012.

Posted in poetry
Tags: leaving work, social work