316 million tons: Our weight on the world

Deadweight
Feels heavier
Without a light source

Emitting and casting off more than
Darkness which regenerates
On itself
Like a quiet tumor
Reaching

Look at Atlas,
His flexed muscles
Atop his torso
Showing his amassed
Strength and Dilemmas,
Symbolic

The woman is rounded
Into fetal position
Cradling her empty
Gut, where lead linings
Rust

She must endure
the pulseless womb
Internally,
Empty

He will never feel this weight
Carried
in her pit, shriveling up
Potential
Against will

She will take on more

Despite this moment
Wedged under a
Ticking clock

Like counting down
Our rock planet teeters
Without her brace

It would be wise of man to
Expect the Fall.



Painting by Adolph von Menzel (1815-1905), 'Sister Emily sleeping' c. 1848 in Public Domain. 

Social security

Unless you were born
a boy
with silky chestnut hair
shaped like a perfect bowl of soft wound thread
nested as in a kitten ball
atop an angelic head dappled with
a sole magic dimple under the high arched
cheekbone amidst
perfectly placed and sized features,
jawlines of a steed,
eyes of witches hazel,
long indulgent black lashes,
long limber legs, strong steel shoulders
broad aspirations
long ago,
No-
you will not be chosen
as the one that was
a man for all ages
a perfect fit,
the right breed,
hand(y)some or skillful.

The rest shall be
Employees.



Painting by Benjamin Haydon [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.