We stood in silence
and watched, pulled in
from our punch presses
and rivet guns.

They rolled her out
in front of us;
a brittle elderly lady
stumble shuffling slowly,
a survival motion that
draws little attention
and makes supervisors
uncomfortable.

She was followed by
our employer, embarrassed
and sorry as he presented
us with the news.

"Helen has been here,
today, 20 years.
To celebrate
we have a cake for
you all and an extra
10 minutes for your break."

We stood and watched
as our grandmother
was taken to the ovens.

A clap came out
of the crowd,
so we all performed
and played along with
monotone song

The cake mumbled our
congratulations as we
muffed our condolences
in turn.

She took them in kind
flexing her scarred hands
and bowing towards the floor,
remembering the times
she was free.