Tenure
Tenure
I decided it was high time
I went up for tenure.
The Committee was made up
Of a dozen or so barn pigeons
And an owl who’d
Grouchily agreed to be chair.
I gathered up all my materials
And entered the dark mow.
The Committee was perched
High in the rafters.
Turning his head all the way
Around the owl asked
What I was doing there.
Applying for tenure, I said,
To remain on this earth.
The earth ceased long ago
To offer tenure, the owl said.
We’re all mere adjuncts here.
Any one of us could be let go
At the drop of a feather.