icarus

icarus

Muhammad Ashiq | Art by Henna Mahmood

bird-of-paradise sunset,
bellflower evening,
lily-of-the-nile twilight.
all never done justice
with only camera lens.
i refuse
to see you shackled.

see the world,
icarus.

clotted, coagulated, congealed
candlestick bird corpse
adorn your pierced spine.

for you, wings,
icarus.

bleeding heart—
delicate, yet dramatic—
petals spread as worry
across the branches of
my grey-haired,
calloused-hand mind.

fly, my son.
but not too close to the sun.

smiling child caresses
weary mother’s hand—
she lies face down in sand.
castles and shores,
tide runs past ankles.
seaweed latches on,
bites at excited heels.
seashells roll freely
on sinister ground.
shadowy beach,
animated.
failing wings
falling.

fly, my son.
but not too close to the sun.

searchlight, lantern
matchstick lit for protection.
glass melts before fiery gaze
it curls like cat
and unfurls like sail
onto sail
and wooden deck.
hear crackling chandelier
smile down at burning piano.
hear roaring smoke
clash with embracing clouds.
gold scimitars pour like raindrops
into gaping abyss.
crystal silence falls like snow
resting heavy on cave-like souls.
screaming ship,
aflame.
ablaze star
falling.

fly, my son.
but not too close to the sun.

lungs fill with water.
gold, cyan, violet sea-dwellers
swim close to beating heart.
endless sea,
alive.
icarus
falling.