That to be honest was always fatal. To try to get to the truth of the matter
was the last thing anybody wanted. To be right about what just happened,
to locate efficiencies, to finish the job and be the best–so far from the point of it.
Everyone just wanted to keep it going, to pretend we were all working
and doing our best. To be moving toward progress
instead of talking about moving was not where they agreed to be.
Sitting in the sun-drenched mire of it, sunbathing in the objectives.
That’s where the old saying was concocted: putting lipstick on a pig.
Prompt: Write a sad poem, without emotional words. This was my third attempt. Still too vague but I’ve run out of time and am not feeling sufficiently sad today to pull it off.