Icarus and the Sun
I’ve fallen in love with the light-
A warm, honey-coloured being
Whose movements mimic
The cascading torrent
Of a summer monsoon.
His searing kiss
Favors the curve of my shoulders
And the hollow of my neck--
Sparing no affection
In his administrations.
His strength lies in his softness,
And my lovelorn gaze lingers
On his face.
On his eyes-
Two pools of molten gold
Filtered through
The sweetest of greens.
Oh what I would give to drown myself
In their depths,
Or spend a thousand eternities
With them locked on me.
And his seaglass smile:
So round--with lips so smooth,
The way they mouth silken consonants
Against the firm press of my own.
I worship the way his fingertips
Skim the surface of my skin
And impossibly tangle
in the nonexistence of my hair;
As the line of his throat
Curves backwards
And music spills
From his mouth, his joyous laughter
Brighter than all the world.
Oh, Gods, you know that his embrace
Is home to me, that I’m condemned to be a
Stranger everywhere in his absence.
Bereft of his presence, I ache to my bones--
Blind and cold and so terribly alone.
Were he to ask that I fly
Home to him,
Then with the fading pinks
Of a lavender sky,
I would fashion wings and soar
To the brilliant sunrise where he stood,
And return both those borrowed pinks--
And myself,
to him.