The circular firing squad

Did you sense fear in her eyes?
Elaine’s eyes? Could it be the audit?
Did you witness the pre-tsunami calm,
In Norman’s response? The allegations
Stand on their own, don’t they?
Was there sudden purpose in Cal’s
Wing-tips as he approached the stairway?
Was his medication left conveniently
In his car? Was something approaching
A prayer, uttered by an unbeknown as
The door closed softly behind us?
Could funds have been mishandled?
Could funds have been misappropriated?
Toxic questions abound and rise like the acidic
Odor from a green marker on a board room
White board. Like the soft glow and well
Balanced and expertly timed, Blame.
Recall Ashford. Pale and insistent, to the
End. How he lingered, near the exit.
Chest heaving like a winded sled dog.
And poor, ever dry, Elizabeth!
Her reading glasses resting upon the mahogany
Table. I so recall her inappropriate laugh, and
Her most distracting cough.