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Mx Glass
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What Tantalus Wants
I. The Rock II. The Piano Pomegranate blossoms whirl from black branches to the brackish pool you’re standing in. I quiver in your peripheral vision waiting patiently as if you own me. I can tell that you ache for my heavy thought obliterating awareness and When your pale fingers press through that negative space between my own you hope that perhaps I’ll knock you down fast enough to reach those impalpable goals. my high sigh reawakens your haphazard past. Perplexed, you wander off to procrastinate You assume that my gravity and brevity will throw you into the thick of this dark matter. and bury it all in the back of your mind. I will not protest. I won’t make a sound at all. Yet the sight of that fruit consistently coaxes your mouth to sting with memories of its violet juice. I’ll fade to the corner of the room where you can’t be bothered to click the desk lamp cold. We’ll stay just out of reach since satiation is as abstract to you as death is to me. But I can’t help thinking, if I swung above from some rope, my bearing might lend you weight. |
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Mx Glass lives in the East Bay of California. Xe has recently been published in THEM and The Journal for Compressed Creative Arts. Mx has xyr BA from San Francisco State University, and is currently using it to study ghosts.
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