after Strata by Marjorie Moeser
acrylic on canvas, 26″ x 12″
You’ll notice the gold-tipped
tooth of a man as he
crosses into a shaft of sun
this side of the vale and smiles
and shines like an island,
if you’re not
lamenting the key
you left in another pocket,
the wardrobe packed in a faraway crate,
failure faces, actual cracks
and blood predispositions.
— I’m suggesting
Icarus wasn’t falling as he fell
but splashing back to birth through earth and ocean.
The scaffold of his soul so keen
it pinioned myth to wing,
hubris to the beings of renewal.