Grass is Green

Sisy­phus and Tan­ta­lus
are arm-wrestling on
their cof­fee break. One
has cracked and dusty
fin­gers hard as rolled stone.
One has algae in his hair
and lips like the Gobi.

Sisy­phus is stronger, but
Tan­ta­lus talks good fish-
tongued trash. They’ve
got a bet. Each wants
what the oth­er has, but
break time is over.

I haven’t writ­ten a poem of even mid­dling qual­i­ty this month. I haven’t been able to get my head in the right spot. I can’t reach the tip­ping point that I usu­al­ly stum­ble on when free-writ­ing that sparks cre­ativ­i­ty. Very frus­trat­ing.