Drafty Poem #13
Maurice was found, garroted, near his desk,
Six feet of ethernet around his throat.
The look upon his face was quite grotesque –
Surprised. His chance to fight the fiend? Remote.
A week went by before another died:
Old Peter Feye. The water cooler scene
Blood-red, a plastic knife pressed to his side.
His final act, a quest for hot caffeine.
We’re all afraid. The killer’s loose, and we
Are sure he works amongst us ev’ry day.
“Which cube is his?” I wonder nervously
At 6 PM – alone, to my dismay.
An awful night, tonight, to work so late –
This surely won’t improve attrition rates.