Debt

There’s a void in the pit of my chest;

An emptiness, but even less;

A cold that hit absolute zero

And kept going down

Making all the atoms turn the wrong way round

Making them anti-matter or something

Or a black (w)hole into which all matter is pumping

But not like that because it has no mass.

It has anti-mass

And anti-gravity

that pulls things apart.

It has anti-mass

Where the Blood is unshed, the Body unbroken

And I am unforgiven.

3/29/04

Benjamin Cline