Page 57 - 2019 Priory MUSE Magazine
P. 57

     Tantalus Fallen by Hannah Sheridan
i am lonely but i run when people try to touch me with well intention
my throat, the back
where my tongue morphs to a different organ burns with dust to spite glasses
upon glasses of glacial water
i am not thirsty in fact swelling i am saturated but i cannot turn away Please, try (my mind
stone mistress, purses her lips)
prevent my lips from seeking peaceful promises
raw lips, never run silver soothing
hope eternal no matter how long i burn
curled, pulse beating out of step with iron music as the floor
reverberates against my bones
(ones I count at night, make
certain all are there)
ceiling casts dust from plaster coat
snowing over the hills of my green comforter
she squeezes under the cracks in my door
purring, I know all her melodies
smooth muscle works my jaw as she slinks to the fire escape (one two i still can move)
I don’t.
and right before she leaps into the wintry city black tail twitches and she rests, turning
licks shoulder
twice and disturbed
streetlamp eyes find mine
buried in mountains rank with flesh lids narrowed in derision,
a choking decrescendo
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Painting by Phoebe Grout







































































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