This is a follow-up of my poem, Fragment of an Unfinished Play, posted today at Fit to Work, Poets Against ATOS
The Next Scene
we return to the room
on the second floor,
the window, replaced
by a door.
An official sits at a table
with a questionnaire and a woman
who has learning disabilities.
It is simple arithmetic – the government
has met its goal – 20% reduction
in disability benefits. My corporate boss
requires 36% increase in revenue.
The solution?
She shakes her head, searches his face
for answers, suggests
she just go.
Wrong answer!
A bitter pill,
disguised as a petit four
materializes on the table.
There are two exits from this room:
the one you eat
and that door.
She opens the door and
notices there are no stairs.
Yes. That’s our running joke.
