maze & the min 2 — patchwork archive

PATCHWORK ARCHIVE

Izy Carney

THE MINOTAUR AND THE MAZE PART 1

Memory is the mortar of every built structure. Beneath that memory is the earth where it all sinks in. Time and Earth conspire. The structures erode and leave stories in their place. The story I told myself was a marble colosseum, destroyed, yes, but beautiful once, at least. My life’s work will be to excavate this site. Already, I’ve found blood in the grout and bones under tiles. It seems the story is more dangerous than the thing it protects.

THE MINOTAUR AND THE MAZE PART 2

I have been stuck
in this plaza in
this maze for months now.

The bricks in the walls
keep me complacent
with good stories. I’m

tired. I dream of
being elsewhere or
not at all. It’s hard

to care about my
escape when the walls
will collapse in a

decade anyway, when
the sea and all its
people will take their

revenge, and rightly.
I was told there is
a Right Way to get

out. So I tried that
old trick of only
right turns. It led me

to lowpay options,
temporary, great
for a resume

and more right turns.
There are at least ten
directions I see

at any moment.
They are all either
too expensive or

too selfish, too bland
or impossible.
In any case, none

excite me into
action. I think I
lost half myself long

ago. I don’t know
if I should go back
for her or pick up

new pieces along
the way. While sitting
here, I’ve tried to learn

the origin of
the maze. I suspect
it will never end—

the edges expand,
and grow new walls, turns,
unknown tasks and beasts.