Thank you for your letter of late,
and for the stale coffeecake on the break room table.
And we apologize if we’ve offended
your baroque sensibilities, distracted
as we were by the businessmen drinking
blood from the skulls of small animals.
We forgot polite introductions and other
niceties of our current society. Rest assured,
the tone of your letter, the angle of the knife
protruding from the cake, did not go unnoticed.
And we’ve made some changes we think
you’ll like. First, consider that all the oxygen
is now recycled. The speckled ceiling tiles
spit and smoke. Notice the sink of raw meat,
the cloven-hoofed secretaries preening
the feathers of their black wings. All of this
per your written request of just last week.
On page 32 of the employee handbook
we’ve enshrined your motto: “Loss
is a hostile takeover.” We appreciate
the lavish sympathy bestowed on us
at the annual retreat and how it reminded
us of childhood and our various past lives.
So, thank you for that, and for the dark
visions you shared with us in the brainstorming
session—running your tongue over your lips,
and clicking your teeth.
Nick DePascal currently lives in Albuquerque, NM with his wife and son where he’s working towards an MFA in poetry and teaching at the University of New Mexico. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Los Angeles Review, The Emerson Review, Sugar House Review, and more.