By Nola Killpack

The sky must end somewhere

and there I would be trapped,

so I mold myself wings

of feathers and hardened wax.

~

Of my fate, I lie, unaware,

this journey, thought abstract.

But left unsponsored by each king,

I slip on flight and watch my feet retract.

~

Here dwells I, an undiscovered wilderness,

and I manufacture rainbows (sun glorified by tears)

but the sky is glass blown by wind and lava

and I could touch it in these wings I wear.

~

So I fly higher. When my back drips, bloodless,

beneath my fist, sky fractures into cerulean spears

and through the gash oozes space. I become a killer,

pirate ships crushed beneath stars, humanity a shifting powder,

~

but no, my fist too weak, my wings too waxen,

my knuckles land with a hollow sound

and I am the only one found bleeding, broken

no oak and velvet, but a shroud of clouds.

Posted by:hbinretrospect

Reporting not for school, but for life.

3 replies on “Icarus, Forgotten

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s