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.


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