MARCUS MYERS

Hating Sisyphus Is
after Taci Brimhall after Jenny Molberg

hating a myth & hating a myth is hating what refuses to rise
above gravity & what refuses to rise are those who refuse
my hand extended at cliff’s edge & my hand at cliff’s edge
to save another is a dead lump of dough pretending to be 
the grip of a hero & the dead man pretending valour
while grasping to save is the science fiction twin I absorb 
in the womb of sleep & the womb of sleep is the belly 
of stillness & quietude and the belly of still and quiet 
is much like a death of mindfulness & a mindful death 
is an ocean cave flooded with tangles of memory-
related gamma waves & tangles of memory 
surely includes the many pricks I endured 
while picking blackberries from briars 
& popping one in my mouth and dropping three
in the bucket & picking the sweet 
from the warm iron & salty tears 
is real life which I’ve loved
even though it’s a motherfucker
of a mythic boulder which I hate
but always picture 
when things get heavy
& weird.