Looking Back

A harbinger; they couldn't know.
The last of the jam slid from the jar,
Just past his bread, to reach the
Floor. A box was on his office
Chair, an empty one. He'd lost
His job. A letter came with
Jarring news: his corpse would
Be worth more to those who needed
Him than he could be, alive.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 19 times
Written on 2011-11-08 at 15:14

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