Last night, I dreamed I was Icarus.
But we escaped by moonlight, and no matter
how high I flew, moth-like seeking doom,
the wax held. Footprints lined the beach as we passed overhead,
the shadows like Talos' hollow eyes at the bottom of the steps.
We flew over this sea that would have no name
and approached the mountains. By daybreak we were
back on the ground. And father and I were alive and safe.
Onto Sicily then, and Cocalus, and beyond.
Part of me is glad to be free and to know earth again,
but another part wishes that feathers were hurtling behind
like a vapor trail and that laughter was being
wrenched from my throat by the waves.

(You may have seen this before…I needed to get it here so I could work through something that's supposed to follow it. Move along, please.)