February 17th, 2004

Why Me? Penguin

The poem I just wrote while sitting in my boss's office...


The frenzied flakes rage outside.
I open the window and invite them in,
Swirling flakes of pure white
Like down feathers in a cyclone.

At once, I am Cathy
And somewhere is Heathcliff,
And my body is like the moors,
And my mind an unknown phantom.

Muscles tensed against the wind
I struggle to shut the window,
And it becomes no more
Than cold confetti behind the glass.

Interview went well and I told my other boss. Now they are really pressuring me to stay even if I get offered the position, which I think is a good possibility. I don't know. I have a lot of thinking to do over the next week...