THEBES
︎︎︎ Tiresias Tobin-Priest
︎ May 26, 2026
Beneath the overpass we pondered
passive, vague, bereft of prudence,
obsessed with theories etched in shade.
In the belly of leviathan we were dead
and watched the living
through shimmering rivers of spilt gasoline—
in tent cities, wet-eyed, picking
at detritus and adamic dust:
the bottle men, the bag men,
the tattooed pyjama girls,
twelve dozen of them,
trudging shopping carts over dandelions
and cracks in the asphalt, moved
by fecund, barbarian logic.
while highways thrummed above the earth
we stood, imperious, glassy-eyed, still,
tracing cuneiform in the air.
we cut the pictographs of man
beneath the verdant leaves of time
draped across the concrete poles
between gray heaven and the street.
Still the living passed between us
like bedouins in the sand,
or a world before these pillars held
their cold ethereal grids.
passive, vague, bereft of prudence,
obsessed with theories etched in shade.
In the belly of leviathan we were dead
and watched the living
through shimmering rivers of spilt gasoline—
in tent cities, wet-eyed, picking
at detritus and adamic dust:
the bottle men, the bag men,
the tattooed pyjama girls,
twelve dozen of them,
trudging shopping carts over dandelions
and cracks in the asphalt, moved
by fecund, barbarian logic.
while highways thrummed above the earth
we stood, imperious, glassy-eyed, still,
tracing cuneiform in the air.
we cut the pictographs of man
beneath the verdant leaves of time
draped across the concrete poles
between gray heaven and the street.
Still the living passed between us
like bedouins in the sand,
or a world before these pillars held
their cold ethereal grids.
Tiresias Tobin-Priest is a writer from Virginia who will never go to law school.
Also by Tiresias: PICKING AT ICE
Also by Tiresias: PICKING AT ICE