Poetry

“Flightless Bird: Icarus” (Fall 2015)

To the tune of “Flightless Bird American Mouth,” Iron & Wine. This was an exercise that we did in Calliope my freshman year. It’s not great, but it was so fun.


I was an architect,

working for the wrong king,

building a ghastly maze

for his weird offspring.

Then when his daughter came,

I gave her a ball of string

And then her dad locked me

in with my half-wit son.

 

Have I found you?

Flightless bird, falling, screaming.

Or lost you?

Icarus?

Wax wings, burning.

 

Now, I know I told you

to stay far away

from the fucking sun.

I could be proud of a

son with common sense.  Lad,

don’t you know the sun’s

hot?  You’re twenty-one.

I told you to follow me.

 

Have I found you?

Flightless bird, splashing, sinking.

Or lost you?

Icarus!

Foolish boy—I’m sorry.

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4 thoughts on ““Flightless Bird: Icarus” (Fall 2015)

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