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Rest now and hold those hungry questions under your tongue, child. Strangle those uncertainties in
your throat. You are Tantalus, forever cursed to wade in a pool of undrinkable water / in the shade of a
tree with unreachable fruit. Always grasping for the empty beyond your fingertips. Suspended in the
amniotic in-between. Never girl, no matter how many times you answer to the wrong name. / Never
boy, no matter how many times you become your father. You are your own son, and you offer a piece
of yourself to the gods. Let them feast on your not-girl / not-boy flesh. To be eaten is to be made anew.
To be digested is to become other. And wouldn’t you rather be other than neither?

K.J. Kogon is a young writer from Southern California. Their work has been published in warning lines literary and Unfortunately, Literary Magazine. When they aren't obsessively editing, they can be found watching horror movies and cuddling with their three cats. Find them on Twitter @kj_kogon.

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