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Piotr Gwiazda
POEMS

The Meeting


They called a meeting. They canceled a meeting.
They met in the lobby. They met behind closed doors.
They brought in speakers. They brought in soda.
They discussed something. What did they discuss?

Heads will roll, said the woman in the cubicle.
Land will move, said the man in the copy room.
Someone was shouting. Someone was pleading.
Time was running out, so they took a break.

They set priorities to their agenda.
They planned, proposed, considered, compromised.
They looked for solutions to unsolvable problems.
They blackmailed, bluffed, threatened with generals.

They shook hands at the press conference
And vowed soon to arrange for another meeting.
And the heads rolled and the land moved
As if there never had been any meeting.


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