Poem 112

you know a poem needs to be written when even a complex form like the sestina is easy. this one’s for my managers at the firm… the answer i would have given for leaving…
Exit Interview for Marketing Results Inc,
So there I was, office causal and ready to work.
Give it to me, land on my desk, any opportunity
to prove I can make solutions seem simple
to demonstrate my worth, make no one sorry
for hiring the doe-eyed former-intern, eager to accomplish.
Email, copy write, proofread for that ever needy client.
That was July. When suddenly it was December and work
took on unprecedented hours of labor to accomplish,
it occurred to me that my window of opportunity
was slowly slimming to a crack too slender and sorry
to prove even a shaving of value to the now cynical client.
Even daily tasks deemed elementary and simple
took days, sometimes weeks more to accomplish.
My vanilla desk looked melancholy with me feeling sorry
for myself at 8 pm, all alone, no more gilded opportunity,
just a stale to-do list acquiring hour after hour for simple
basic chores: send this, read that, quickly get back to the client.
All along the old adage in my head, work smart don’t work
hard. But it was all hard. Even proofing was no longer simple.
Making foolish errors. Writing dragging copy. Disappointing clients.
Finding time at home to get ahead, in a rush to accomplish
a PO or an inventory count, I traded poetry for opportunity.
My creative salts all flowing towards an endless sea of work.
Even still, Mondays were exhausting, faking smiles for the client,
intolerant of my dragging pace, paying a simple
fortune for perfection. I knew all too well that my work
was subpar, my keyboard flanked with opportunity
to fail, so I set aside my wordsmithing for copywriting. Sorry
to overlook craft, thinking over and over, I must accomplish

by the deadline. But the deadline was me at 5, checking simple
copy, praying in the morning I wouldn’t have to be sorry.
Maybe errors might be caught before final stages, accomplished
before money was wasted; ever desperate to please the client.
Each moment wondering what was more valuable, love or work.
I knew my time for marketing had expired… given the opportunity
I would treat myself as the client, and take my best work
elsewhere, try and accomplish my own kind of success, simple  
yet satisfying. My opportunity to leave, as hard as saying sorry.
And so I am.

Sincerely Yours. 


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