I saw an empty office space
with broken chairs and cubicles.
The conference rooms
haven’t seen a meeting for months,
and the dusty tables, lampshades,
and upholstery are not even recyclable.
Cubicles were set in clusters
shaped like ships and rockets.
The posters, soft toys, flower pots,
greetings, poems, sketches, and name plates
all abandoned for the flies and mites.
Where are the people;
what are their services and products;
where are the managers, their fluffy market talks;
what do they dream and aspire;
what do they ride and what do they design;
what new con jobs are they getting trained for;
are they still seated in perfumed cubicles
this poem vividly encapsulates the ghosts and artifacts of an empty office space while exploring the conditions that probably resulted in its demise ... could effortlessly see and fell this poem ... nicely done, Debs ...
Reviewed by Peter Schlosser (Reader)
"What new con jobs are they getting trained for?" Great line here. Reminds me a lot of my building here in LA. All the fly-by-night mortgage companies gone. Left all furniture behind. Compelling questions here...and so true to the moment. Good poem!