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Sisyphus Trudges On
by Mary Langer Thompson

It was one of those days for Sisyphus
when he put one foot in front of the other
to push his boulder forward.
He listened through his earbuds
to "I'm gonna love you
like I'm gonna lose you."

Regret, push. Regret, push.

There was a chill in the air that morning.
His backpack weighed heavy,
as though it would propel him backward.
The sky pressed, dark and low-spirited.
Was he climbing toward a funeral?

Regret, push. Regret, push.

At noon, he secured his rock
and sipped soup from his thermos.
The clouds were smaller but blacker,
ready to pour out cup after cup
of sorrow.


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