By | 1 March 2017

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.

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