atlas
Tessa Muhle ‘21 i am cosmically tired. my bones are fossils; my heart, a solid weight of lead dragging me down down d o w n to a place i’m regretfully familiar with i look up to see rainbows flitting around taking the forms of birds and flowers and fantastic things. i cannot reach them around me there is nothing but dust and stone and rock and bone. i scratch words into the prison wall with a crumbling fingernail. is this what atlas felt like? with the weight of the world on his back, twinkling stars just out of reach of his grasping eyes?
60
