mag 3 on da bus = dead weight

This week the ticket for Monday's The Poetry Bus has to do with
the topic of death and eternity, so I am killing two birds (since we're
talking about death, but not any magpies, of course) with one stone
and combining the bus and Tuesday's Magpie Tales photo prompt.
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So, here's my version of "Mag 3 on Da Bus".

Dead Weight

What separates the living
from the dead?

I've heard it said
a few grams
of something
measurable

leaves the body
at the point
of death.

A minuscule weight.
Heavier than air.
More than
that last breath.

What's there?
Where does it go?
When does it start?

Can human scales
detect the absence
of a soul?

Is the sum
of our parts
less than the whole?

willow, 2010

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