Sisyphus isn’t happy he isn’t feeling
anything at all
not at the moment.
Over the years he’s turned his thoughts to marriage
each neuron tied one to one with a muscle fiber, an
Sisyphus is married
to Latissimus Dorsi, his deltoids her bridesmaids
Serratus, her sister, he swears he hears them
talking behind his back.
Sisyphus lives now in the mind muscle connection
a perfect union,
a whole life of living despite.
A life full of push days
only gravity pulls
and despite the dichotomy of being a two-sided object
Sisyphus never thinks to turn around.
His glutes push through his pelvis
like smoke ripped through a filter
his back a chamber of moth dust, he knows
there is one romance that separates
and one that draws nearer.
Sisyphus is a brain is a body
is the Boulder
is the Mountain.
One romance says
touch rock become rock-like
the other is pushing
all the way up the hill to god
who refuses all contact
though he is everywhere
though he touches every thing.