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“A New Mythos” by Kelly Carroll | 186 words | Poetry | No content warnings
Sometimes I sleep soundly under the Milky Way.
My dreams wax non-
linear and otherworldly – I mumble to the stars in my sleep.
I don’t get why some fear the dark. I have always gazed upward into the black.
(If this were Pluto,
and across that void,
I would meet you in the eternal twilight of the sun tonight. We could watch the Kuiper Belt
twinkle in the face of the Milky Way.)
I wish, like stars, we sprang from creation with purpose. This reminds me
of a little-known fact: If we were asteroids, this space between us would be a vacuum
(Isn’t a vacuum just space waiting to come alive?)
I’ve seen people die because of love. Look at Proserpina descending
In this life, I make plants grow. I work among those who call life from black dirt in glass houses
and fields under the stars.
Long long ago. Proserpina married Pluto. The queen of spring called the caverns of death home –
Stranger, I’ll tell you this:
In this myth,
I am Pluto.
Kelly Carroll hails from small-town North Central Texas, but currently lives in the somewhat queer-friendly city of San Antonio, TX, where they await graduation and look toward their murky future with tentative hope. Kelly currently spends most of their time with their partner or in classes about plants learning about how wild and wonderful the usually-ignored greenery around us can be. Their creative work draws from their fascinations with reinterpretations of classical mythology, their own nebulous “gender,” and the natural world around them. Their poetry, along with pieces of short fiction and photography, has also appeared in The Trinity Review.