Keep On Pumping

Look at the state of that!

Keep On Pumping

One hundred and six kilos
of meat, blubber and wiry hair.
Pressure mounting; actions; reactions
as crumbling ivory grinds.
Steel tendons straining,
cracking bone, and leaking marrow.

Gravity dragging like quicksand,
it's subtle force crushing,
as chemistry battles nature
to tease open canals of slick red heat.
To wrestle the grey slug,
where mind clings to a phantom of vitality.
Youth.
Energy.
Clarity.

Scarred bellows threaten collapse
with every stinging inhalation.
Wallowing in damp flannelette gasps.
Drawing a muddy memory of breath.
Fragile cartilage creaks and clicks,
as potions burn in gullet.

The lumbering creature flounders,
energy spent through years of disarray.
Focus; a fantastic beast
glimpsed through fogged and cracked glass.
Names and faces blurred to one
leave debris of bewildered distress
and a muffled clatter of voices,
heard, but lost in a thick mire
of ancient feculent compost.
Grasping for thought in it's felted cell,
finding only fleeting clues
and an abstract carousel of dimly lit hopes.

And yet, it is so unspeakably tiny.
Helpless; inconsequential.
How did time lay so much weight
on such a fragile spark?
So much expectation
on such a flimsy web?

The one remaining dream:
to keep on pumping.




Richard Temple 11th August 2020

First published in Red Door Magazine, issue 24 (Autumn 2020)
Red Door Magazine