C-suite

I can point out a coward.

I’ll do it right now.

There, in the corner office

with a panoramic city view.

He who delegates

and relegates humans to dollar signs.

Whose veins bleed gold and silver

flush

while we scrape for scant scraps.

by Kara Rowan, The Hustle Horrors Series

For more information on The Hustle Horrors Series, click here.

This poem is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or companies is purely coincidental.