every evening every body
in their dog sprawl on the sofa
slips deeper into the cushions
nothing left to brace
the jumble of limbs
in this surrender to fatigue
for at the end of every day
gravity wins the quiet battle
all resistance crushed
its victims laid to rest
arms and legs buried
under sheet and blankets
and while the body
is as good as dead
our other life takes flight
dreams launch us running
through the dimmer light
of a slightly warped universe
there we wear emotions
like over-sized boots
that slow us trip us
so unpleasant with heaviness
which makes losing
the battle of gravity
not seem so bad at all