Judgement

I will say it plain: I have lost my job and The world keeps rolling Like grey waves Along the harbour wall Indifferent, hungry, and relentless

Not an elegy for glory But a small mourning For a life That had shape Work that mattered

Faced the bullies The petty tribunals Missed the memos The HR forms that read like verdicts Too many, too institutional, too certain

An assassination I do not glorify it Knowing it will be used as fuel for the fire Between the corporate citadels The middle managers Software and platforms Tradable, purchasable commodities Infrastructure as product Dissent as cost centre to manage and erase

Control is profitable

I stumble along the foreshore Ashamed, angry, tired Stubbornly wanting to be awake

Loss is a kind of sleep

The poppies form a wreath, not a shroud The old rites taught us to call death by many names To place the wreath with meaning Not surrender, but transition Remember what we loved once existed And make from that memory A continuing resistance