Poised.
It's not determination.
It's not even sadness.
It's just a bag of nothing,
There's a certain comfort in that.
Indulgent, perhaps.
Ready.
The leg hovers
Over empty air.
Maybe something tries to rally like
A defeated force
In a battle long-since lost.
Maybe.
Step.
Drop.
SNAP!
Rope, bone, sinew.
Silence.
But for the pendulum creak.
It's not even sadness.
It's just a bag of nothing.
Colm Lundberg
21st March 2019
