HR Explains Your Severance Package
HR Explains Your Severance Package
By Carrie Shipers
We apologize for the slow shipping,
any damage caused by damp or careless
handling. Don’t assume because
the box is stamped Fourth Class
that’s what we think of you. To make sure
you stay well once your insurance stops,
we’ve included vitamins, a first-aid kit
with extra gauze, some drugs
we bought online but were afraid
to take. We worried alcohol would be
a bad idea, so for comfort we knitted
an afghan to cozy up the suits you’ll wear
around the house while you rethink
the color of your parachute, how full
your bucket is. The fountain pen’s
left over from last year’s awards.
We didn’t want Congratulations to seem
like a taunt, so we used a paperclip
to scrape off what we could. We really hope
the bank won’t take your car, especially
during daylight with the neighbors
watching. But just in case, here’s
a bus pass so you won’t be trapped,
a Starbucks card for lattes while you fail
to finish your screenplay. We’ve also
packed the rest of your office:
gum, playing cards, photos predating
your divorce. Although we were too late
to stop the looting of your action figures
and stash of La Croix, we did
reclaim the antique paperknife
your grandfather used, but the blade’s
so sharp we’re holding it for now.
Because we know it hurt to be let go
so suddenly and on the eve of bonus season,
we hope you’ll accept this package
in the spirit that it’s meant. It may not
be the cash you were expecting, but it’s better
than the nothing we were told to send.
Carrie Shipers’s poems have appeared in Crab Orchard Review, Hayden’s Ferry Review, New England Review, North American Review, Prairie Schooner, The Southern Review, and other journals. She is the author of Ordinary Mourning (ABZ, 2010), Cause for Concern (Able Muse, 2015), Family Resemblances (University of New Mexico, 2016), and Grief Land (University of New Mexico, 2020).