thick-walled tomb
a slapping hand, numb and beet red
all sound absorbed
nothing passes
but a tremor
knocking loose a grain of sand
one sand grain for all the frantic panic
for all the screaming, kicking, and pounding
a grain of sand no one will miss
it’ll hit the earth without a shock wave
it’ll tumble into a pile of its kind, becoming indistinguishable
it’ll happen in the space between heartbeats
all that frenetic energy eaten by stone
the sum of a human life force in its final throes
muted by a tomb
By B Gourley in poem, Poetry on February 5, 2017.
