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Sisyphus Ponders Escape

By Tracy May Adair

It's not as if I'm dead. OK, technically, I am dead,

but not dead dead like the shades that wander Elysium’s borders.

 

I'm as alive as you. I have thoughts. Beliefs. As in, I don't believe

this is my end or yours. Nothing is fated.

 

A guy gave me a good offer for my rock. That’s a problem

with the delusional dead: thinking they have control.

 

He wandered off, looking for something more. Left me

a working knowledge of his smart phone. Cell

 

signals flow everywhere on my trek. But who to call?

What’s worth more than my rock? Freedom? Sunlight?

 

Nothing that he offered.  Recharging isn’t needed, though I sleep

a little longer each day. If this is a day. I repeat myself,

 

the rock grows broader, my arms shorter. I’ve many ideas

how to wriggle out of my fate.  If dead, I wouldn’t have

 

ideas, wouldn’t believe the Fates themselves can be bribed.

Nose, tooth, eye. They could clip Hades’ thread if they wanted.

 

By the time this riot was back in order, I’d be gone. Dead,

if I don’t exist elsewhere. Why stay where nothing’s gained?

 

You know, Fate isn’t three crones, just harbors the hatred of three.

I’m not using my appendix, bowels, don’t need all my digits.

 

Like old furniture, they take up space. She could have them.

So bloodthirsty, I suppose she’d throw them to Cerberus.

 

Wait.  I could do that myself. Hold that bargain, Fate.

Previously Featured Poetry

Sisyphus Ponders Escape by Tracy May Adair

Medusa by Jemma Hoolahan

Cottonmouth, Loose; Woman on a Grand Piano by Valentyn Smith

Rosa Roja by Jenn Givhan

Sleeping Heroes by Ace G. Pilkington

Dr. Guinevere and Mrs. Vak by Alexandra Ranieri

Previously Featured Fiction

Shell Game by Reed Stirling

Old Times by Elisabeth Leekley

Iphianassa by kab

Blood For Rain by Allison Thai

Almost Spring by Carol Harada

On Light and Dark by Mariel Tishma

Previously Featured Art

digital and ink abstract art

Night Fog Machine by Sari Krosinsky

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HAUNTED by Julie Dapper