The last work orders were stuffed
into trays
                        cracked. Men, fingers
twisting steel. When the news broke,
they hung their hard hats
and piled into the office.
 
These arms, a canopy of veins,
roof over the heads
of sons and daughters.                   Crumbling,
                                                       guarded against trespassers
                                                       no longer strange. Still,
 
the cat came in first,
knocked over the stationery holder. Signature.
A tank spilled hydrochloric acid. Skeleton
 
in front of the executive's door.
Please lock the gate before leaving.