172 – Sisyphus


I roll a stone uphill
all night forever
tumbling inside you

sound of seashells
in the dryer

arms ache from keeping
this position
bent-arm Atlas

one cold ear turned
always to the stone
& its quiet voice

when my foot slips
casting down
the stone rolls

& breaks
& breaks
into shards

I walk the mound down
find another stone
to bring again

in my aching arms
all night long

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