Ally, aka Advisor, Resigns
by Stephen Page
You have exchanged the blue coat we gave you
For a red one; or is it just reversible?
Don’t snarl at me, you are not a lion,
You have the eyes of a glass serpent.
You taught me how to be a Godfather,
Not a father, or a leader.
You taught me how to destroy land,
Not build a ranch, or a reputation.
You think only in percentages,
Yours of course, not ours.
It’s no wonder you stink of cancer,
You are rotting from the inside out.
Don’t project yourself into me,
I am not your lost pocket mirror.
You shaped yourself through self-debasement,
But I will not lose my edification.
You will never spark cognitive dissonance,
For consensus on your chagrin.
You weighed the cows wrong, admit it,
Your florid three names will not save you now.
Trenchant are the ineligible, who wish
For nothing more than what they work for.
Your resignation was up for reprisal,
But only half-heartedly.
In the end you have saved me,
You have engendered my independence.
You are like a senator who asks a general
To win a war, then banishes him.
Empirically I have judged you
From the throne of my office.
Stop whispering in my ear,
I will not listen anymore.
I would like to name you Rasputin,
Except, you did not succeed.
Stephen Page is the Author of The Timbre of Sand, Still Dandelions, and A Ranch Bordering the Salty River. He holds two AA’s from Palomar College, a BA from Columbia University, and an MFA from Bennington College. He also attended Broward College. He is the recipient of The Jess Cloud Memorial Prize, a Writer-in-Residence from the Montana Artists Refuge, a Full Fellowship from the Vermont Studio Center, an Imagination Grant from Cleveland State University, and an Arvon Foundation Ltd. Grant. He loves his wife, reading, travel, family, and friends.
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