Year of the Rhinoceros

Epigohue: The Whistleblower’s Lament

312 ~ Year of the Rhinoceros EPILOGUE THE WHISTLEBLOWER’S LAMENT In search of a signal peak, I stumble, stranded on the waste coast with the ostrich and hyena. Escape is required , but earth-like movements of culture call me to gravity. The first tug I feel as the gentle, managerial art of nitpicking. Innuendo follows, accusation, threat on a whim. In the daylight stalking hours I am made to appear in the digestive lairs of bosses the way kings once summoned suspected traitors or imprisoned usurpers. On Monday mornings apprentice brown-nosers prowl the halls for me, alert as predators having sniffed a wound, a bleeding in the air. Unsigned confessions next, white collar noir. MS. BITCH-SLUT SHAKEDOWN QUEEN ostracized from happy hour. My phone beeps, grows too hot to hold whenever accusations slur from my lips until I drop it, my nerves needing the convenience of hope. Other employees ’ wives, coaxed into harmful deeds, make a point of collision, in the park or at the post office—evidence of my humiliation left behind for the news hour that never comes. —Unknown (anonymous note found in Lafayette Park, Washington, D.C., November 1984) M. B. Neff ~ 313 This page intentionally left blank. ...