The pendulum swings back and forth,
the swordfish attached to the cable
rising and falling, inching closer to
where I sit unable to move though
nothing binds me to this chair.
It may be hours before the spear
of the great fish reaches my throat,
or maybe only a matter of minutes.
The pendulum seems to be moving
towards me but this is an illusion;
it's the earth that's rotating under
the pendulum, swiveling my body
towards the swinging spear of the fish
someone must have caught a long
time ago and stuffed and brought
here to swing in this perpetual motion
contraption that has nothing to do
with the sea or freedom and whose
mechanics I won't pretend to under-
stand. I'm pretty sure the spear will
stop just short of my throat otherwise
they would never put a chair here.
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