Posted in Lies

Win Win

Her qualifications were almost ideal
suspicion pondered them too good
the perfect applicant is more so
with a trace of imperfection.

A question as to why she wants this job.
The hours are good
the children need her more now
economics dictate she work
but not so much
the present position cannot be altered.

Third to be interviewed and the best
two more follow
she is not displaced.
Paperwork and referee notes are collated
a recommendation is placed on the top desk.

The phone is ringing urgently by return
enquiry as to whether an error has been made.
No. An instruction not to proceed. To take further thought.
This is unusual. Background busyness swells to importance.

Time gathers and rushes to departure
the replacement yet to be chosen
a decision is needed soon, very soon.
An approach, a sigh and heavy pause.

Questions light in manner heavy in authority
about suitability, roles and function
a pen stops mid descent. An answer echoed.
The spotlight of inquisition turns green, to permission.

Persistence always thought itself the victor
standing firm for a department head’s right to appoint staff.
Memory snags and sinks
clothing catching and tearing
response as arbiter
“the second cook never leaves the kitchen.”
A brown face where all others are white
a private hospital
partly healthcare, partly business class. Image.



Most of my life has been spent on the bench, occasionally called into the game by extravagance or attenuation. Waiting has turned a loner into a recorder - nondescript and inconsequential, more not noticed than overlooked - the non-vantage point of children not yet considered old enough to understand. Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry is a lifetime of picking anecdotes up and not throwing them away. Stories collected like odds and ends placed in a box in the basement, the garage, the garden shed - uncertain as to what their use might be but knowing that one day there might be one.

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