Er you visit the grave

Do you see the water crawling about?
Though tethered to this robot,
trailing your walk about,
clipped to the ceiling, the sky,
a specimen of white, steel
tubing, piercing arteries with
dilutions.

It opposes cells on the walk about -
daring to enter the race -
wild, free, but assassins all the same.
wielding daggers, they shake the pack,
shaking cells, kicking laps, running to
assure the grave.

Scripture pierces to
blood and marrow, a singular, soul
attachment to our being, our
plastic hope, intervening, intravenously,
to leak - dripping, slowing, efficaciously -
but still, bombing the entrenched opponent.

For consensus, we may be outnumbered,
though human voice counts
for much in deciding a compassionate response
to bombarding the fortress.
A bevy of solutions, discussion -
even roundtable ensues.

But all for the best it is calculated via
experienced sleep deprivation, doctors of the night -
blackness training for vital signs -
to watch them treading water, swimming, reaching -
another day of life outside the grave.

© 2013 Larry Ingram