What could he carve out of words
that would make any sense of it now.
When Icarus fell, and walked, broken,
back to the village–what
could he say.
The villagers were afraid of him,
couldn’t believe him,
How could he describe flying
up towards the sun,
his wings melting,
he’d forgotten all warnings,
he couldn’t stop,
until he was
How could he explain how it feels here,
what pictures does he have,
except the white hot flower in the sky