The Wall
Soles, alone, pound the organic trail
chores, voluntarily, assumed and done
for joy, for fun,
aches rise like
the thick humid damp
dragging limbs (and)
sagging minds.
Electric, in series, empowering the soul,
discharging, in parallel, head to toe
draining
rotting
dying, alive
space hits out
a sudden silent thud
freezing the march
absorbing all sound.
by David Bugg (2009)