everybody weighs something but here
the dead weigh less than the living
whatever your choice of scale
old brass shop type electronic
the balance god and devil hold
not so on Heavyworld where
even after death the armour
goes on growing as with us
toe-nails and hair a little
there the carapace expands so
slow but so endless still soft
the young the living
are crushed now between
monster
armour
empty as
drilled out holes
there is no
life
left in them
a good omen
for our coming
