Butterfly bound with wings that must fly south
but she is a northern moth in disguise
background unknown – perhaps too dark a past
judgement cannot be passed by normal court –
Summer sun sets on a washed horizon
we lick salt from our skin as it dries deep
bones weak as if humidity seeped in
melting our skeletons amoeba like
devolving into a parasitic state
pulsing projections of shadow lives –
We watch her drop from bruise hued skies
arising with our exhale from scorched earth
wax nor feather from father now enslaved her
floating free h/she burned bright, newly born .


3 thoughts on “Icarus for this century

  1. This is a powerful piece, I love the imagery you create and the final line lets the harshness give way, a new beginning and a world of adventure again waiting.

    • Hello Ste J – Your comment is most kind. Sorry, took a hiatus from blog for almost a month! Last night I was so inspired that I visited to post a new poem and discovered this comment. Will visit very soon. Be well!

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