Gaandhaari Poem by JAY WALK

One must imagine Sisyphus happy
because there is no rush
to act so tragic. Not everything
you've let go of is
painted with dried blood.

One must imagine Sisyphus
happy, as a mosaic
of all things assumed forgotten,
thighs slick with blood,
yet catching up
with blue seas everlasting.

One must imagine Sisyphus
happy, in robes never
more lovely, with warm rocks
for his cold skin, carrying
spherical poems on his back.

All of it was blood
and you,
you turned it to red silk.
All of it.

One must imagine
their Sisyphus happy.