Poem: False Wing

 

False Wing

 

wind kicks, hurts, boxes my head, taunts,

impossible to tame,

breaks out of the jail of my will,

a sorrowful skull’s failure

to imprison what eroded the loft of delight.

dents of sun scatter, diffusive to ingress.

my entreaties swing stale,

feckless among the heretical howls

of the wind and these needles of sun,   

such is the Prospero of my pride,

hunkered as a gargoyle, pitted and pilloried,

lashed by whirls of glare, this wind

which bucked the saddle soon after 

i laughed to decree how far and high my ingenuity 

could matter.

it worries me everywhere,

gnawsome of solar canines, the sun,

such an indescribable lack-of-shadow.

goosebumps shudder my muscles,

remind me i assumed false wing:

young of brash lack-of-mastery,

i succumbed to feathery plight.

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10/20/25 ... modville

5/1 ... removed a word

5/1 (later) ... changed the last few lines for impact and flow

5/1 ... changed a few words... 

Icarus theme