**tw's: burning, drowning, sui implied, parental abuse**
after 'to a friend whose work has come to triumph' by anne sexton
consider had icarus survived—perhaps by
inverting his ribs & using them to fly—
only for his father to say what kind of man
knows how to fly but not swim?
& icarus would have rather burned. & so he did—
consider icarus blessing his wings as he fell,
that it was no sun, but his own mouth—hot & wet
& full of feathers. he would be drooling
out the beeswax lacing his teeth.
see, he wanted his tongue to
take flight too, anything for his words
to be light too. see,
he was neither ignorant nor a fool.
is it still falling if you enjoy it?
when you don't know warmth,
you take the burning.
consider that at one point, he must have been
not too low, or not too high
floating about in the middle of the sky,
at a place just right, a place
equidistant between the sun
& the sea &
it is there he found his voice. giddy,
he spat out the feathers
& down he went. consider,
as he dropped, he saw daddy's arms
reach out, & then pull away
oh, those last moments were the
worst & best of his life. consider
father was jealous that his son died—
for want of beauty, if nothing else.
to be burning & then
not.
consider his father could have saved him
if he could have taken the slightest of burns—
like a mother would have.
there is a thing as too sensible.
there is a thing as too sensible.
who cares that he fell back to the sea?
anne would know, she hurt her
children too. consider how
they grew up, playing tug of war with her love. consider icarus was hurt
not by the burn or the fall, but
his own hot eye watching daedalus
roaming around the
very labyrinth he built. & how
he would know the
way out if he were
not ravaged by guilt.
consider how daedalus still
takes flight to hear the wind—
it is icarus whispering to him—
father, eat & flourish—
you cannot avoid the sun forever
you cannot hide from drinking water
& daedalus tries to do the same—
go to the sun & fall back again
it's hot here—
the water will be cool though
but there is a thing as too sensible, you see—
there is a thing as too sensible.
YOU ARE READING
body work
Poesia**for fans of plath, anne sexton & ocean vuong** 'body work' is a captivating collection of poetry that delves into the depths of human experiences, exploring the intricate relationship between the physical body & the emotional & spiritual realms. w...
