From a far city
of little heart,
a beat begins.
Its heaviness moves
and unfolds in memos.
A blade cuts faceless names:
"There must be casualties
for the good of us all,
for the bottom line."
The unseen ax
is without malice,
without disruption.
Only bare offices,
and boxes of effects,
show the antisepsis.
Silence guards the halls.
Eyes fail to meet.
Only whispers and rumors
behind doors.