Last performance review cycle, I got a "barely meets expectations"—something I could've avoided if I slept with my VP, but I liked to believe I had an unshakeable moral ground. I wouldn't be too sad ... [+]
There is a place by the ocean,
a burial site for flesh and steel
beasts
where mast meets cross
and mermaid bowsprit conspires
with moss-choked stone angel.
The insects falter in their
primordial dance,
missteps of appendages
and antennae.
They nibble on salt-corroded metal
and nestle in rot-sweet chest cavities.
And there, below the ground,
paying the baffled insects no mind,
the ship and human bones
waltz on.