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lonely sisyphus

Kaitlin Hurley

crushed Coors cans litter
scrubbed counters,
like the bruises on her back,
yet she forces her hope uphill.
stay hidden in the kitchen,
maybe he's asleep;
her hope rolls over the peak.
footsteps grow louder,
rolling downward,
step by step.
beat, scratch, bruise;
she rolls the rock back up.

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