Maybe the mummy lost his heart

When it was alive, to a gaze
Or a hand’s press soft

Before it tightened, distraught. 
Or he was always heartless.

Regardless, on screen
We can see it’s fallen

To pieces, chamber collapsed 
On itself or

Just vanished, a door
Opening on air.  Perhaps

He’s missing it and perhaps 
Not. What can a poor mummy do

Without?  The matter becomes
Absence.  He’s lost something

Big, we know, the thing
Without which, etcetera, whatever

It may have been, or where.