DOG BREATH: 21 DAYS OF POETRY, DAY 1

The Form

For some time we have lived and died by this form

but seasons are changing,

Ned is nearing retirement and less controlling now,

and one youngster put the form online 

so that it would populate to a spreadsheet.

Neeta in accounting, five years back or so,

brought Ned food when his wife died.

She supports consistent use of the form 

but will make whatever work.

The form is paper and the form is an accretion of days,

ideas, plus-minus margin and bottom line data.

The form is rolling up like an old scroll now

and our names are all on it.

What do we do today to win the day?

Do we give, or do we pretend not to need,

or do we admit to having need?

If you roll up the form like a spyglass

and look way down to the bottom of the well,

which last week opened up in the lobby floor,

smelling like minerals and damp air,

you see a cool blue star--that’s the takeaway,

the real reason we work at T & C Hinge Supply,

Incorporated.