Who wouldn’t lick the boulder’s salty face
to taste the self? To say that yes, it’s good,
accepting gravity as rowdy bride,
as locked stone top for all eternity
& bruising only when she makes it so.
Her weight’s so safe I welcome danger, too.
But Zeus? He thinks it’s punishment to feel
the boots of goddesses upon my throat.
Has no idea I chose my place in hell
beneath Persephone, who likes to watch
me: prey for deities of Sweat and Time.
Don’t free me from these ties. I love it here.
My peak’s a stone. It’s like I never died.