.
the unspoken syllable that catches in your throat
.
the kite caught in the high bird branches of a tree
.
the smile that plays across your lips on a thought kept silent
.
the reflection of a life in another broken mirror
.
the leaf that never made its way to freedom
.
i found her in a box at
the back of a cupboard
all dust-covered and
crinkled with age
at twenty three
already thinking
life was so dim
and so perilous
so blank and filled
with dark possibility
cynical and funny
and cosmically correct
i want to hug her
pat her on the back
and say, there, there
i want to fill her
pages with platitudes
and posture and
cross out words
like bleak and barren
make notes in red
down the sides of
yellowed paper saying
ha! and really?
but instead i hold her
carefully to protect
her vulnerability and
the more i read
the more i smile
because in truth
i find myself
beginning
to fall in
love with her
a little
she gets me
.
.
.
the symbolism was so obvious
one wing
one match
and icarus took flight in my mind
soaring closer and closer to the sun we all worship
though it burns and ravages
we can’t help but love
the fact that it rises
in the east and lights our way
through another day
of living
on this earth, this good earth
this landing pad for myth and feather
and though i tried not to
i could not help
but wish
i’d been there
to see him
fall.
::
::
::
