Something heavy
sits. It is the colour
of machinery.
If you asked
our victim,
the one sat upon,
he whom has not got
breath
to speak with,
“how heavy is that, that thing?”
would
whispered response
satisfy?
Read on…
The doctor knows
how little any
ordinary citizen,
thus prostrate,
understands about weight.
You see?
A body or spirit can be crushed
but as fact it remains,
that someone should wish
to be freed by death,
is not always so.
No.
In truth,
the pressing bulk might be
gripped as comfort,
a warm, dark,
solid familiarity.
Robert On The Air 