Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry

There was no training programme for supervisors
the work without skill
heavy, simple and monotonous
the best performed from the year before
promoted by productivity
showing what they had been shown.

Keep an eye on the people the boss said.
He also said this contract returned twenty percent
and to offer perspective
the industry typically spent 95 cents creating a dollar.
Keeping the customer satisfied unspoken
but heard loud and clear.

Her answer was so unexpected
she said she understood kitchens could be tense
that urgency and urging were often required.
But it was my tone
one she knew well –  from her six month marriage.
The tone came first
then the violence.

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Hierarchy
even when achievement is long and distinguished
a single entity stands alone
a book
a film
a performance
a pinnacle not previously summitted, And never again.

The second year in the school was mine
the first year had gone well
and the following five all pretty good too.
But the second was a perfect year
everything unfolding smoothly, symmetrically – no kink or rush
even football
we almost won the championship.

Our form master was exactly what God had in mind
when designing a homeroom teacher for 12-year-old boys.
Fair, firm, compassionate, fun-loving, tolerant
and wise
knowing the almost adolescents were still children
and the world would bear down …. soon enough.

Its official name was The General Excellence Award
one per class
we called it the poofter prize
openly disparaging it
but secretly desirous.

Two days before prize giving
our form master takes me aside
The General Excellence Award
came down to me and John
but John is leaving the school
going to a bigger school – where he won’t be known.
I was staying here
I’d get the prize – “ it was just a matter of time.”

I never did.
No conspiracy
the next five years were all good
that year – the second – was my perihelion.

I took it to mean I should have won
a 12 year old felt betrayed
he’d broken the rules
dishonesty – by his own impeccable standards.
A fifty something is pleased he did
it was a Catholic school and a very Christian thing to do.

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At work we have a tea lady
an old-fashioned term
quaint
antiquated
it is what she calls herself.

Friendly
bosomy
motherly
she looks exactly what she is
a grandmother and tea lady.

Four hours per day
9 a.m. to 11 a.m.
2 p.m. to 4 p.m.
it splits her day into
two diminished halves
an all-day commitment
for half’s pay.

She has a friend
they will job share
two weeks on
two weeks off.

A good deal
it will work for both parties
effective immediately.

They tell the director
he is incensed
“I appoint staff around here
not the bloody tea lady.”

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