Cadaver-3

I accept or reject,

 refuge or refute,

 I am stuck somewhere

              in between

               the cranks of a clock.

 

               That is something huge,

               but hasn’t ticked for years,

               where I am crossed

               as if a junk screw

               and stopped the machine sounding

 

               That is something circular

               but has been bedded for years

               where I am crushed

               as if a hunk

               and stopped automation .

For years

I tuck

for years

I talk

and years

shoulder a body as if a cross

across the time

across space,

I burble the last story

remained unfinished

when coughed..

 

er..or sighed??