By Pavel Chichikov
We followed nervously that cavalcade
Of no thing we could see, although a throng
Of marching stinking phantasms had made
The signs and wires move – we went along
And heard a sound of heavy lamentation.
Did it come from somewhere in the gloom?
We found by sight a soundless confirmation –
Rippled light that streamed out from a door
Which opened at the level of the street –
We entered instantly – not feeling fear –
(We're braver when there's nowhere to retreat).
Before us was a hollow crystal sphere
That filled the walls and ceiling of a chamber
Resting on a highly polished floor,
Inside the hunched up figure of a man
His back conforming to the curvature
He seemed so inconsolable, distraught,
Unsoothable inside his crystal cell
That Robin tried to reach him, slipped and fell
Against the sphere, which yielded and went taut
‘So,' the man said, ‘prisoners at large –
But crystal cells resist your sabotage –
I'll die in here, although it's not my fault.
Persuasion can't extract me, or assault,'
‘Can you escape or can't you?' Robin screamed.
‘I can't, but I don't want to anyway –
Why should you care? – get out of here, or stay –
It doesn't matter, everyone is dead.'
‘But that's not true,' I told him, ‘you see us,
And lots of others live, we'll testify.'
‘Prove it, ‘ said the prisoner, ‘don't trust
What anybody says – it's all a lie.'
Robin rubbed his shinbone where it hurt.
‘Kick the membrane out,' he yelled, ‘attack
It!' ‘No, a hollow crystal has no dirt
Inside unless it seeps in through a crack.
The Shoulder of the Sun Part Twenty-Four will be featured Monday.
To visit Pavel Chichikov's website click *here*
