Until I Remembered My Name Was Icarus – Meg Yardley
Dizzy sun-feathered flyer, I
soared above the cold rooms
of the grey city
along the gold-dreamed length
of light. The ground fell away
beneath me, eclipsed
by the day-star rising:
that fever, spiral-armed
and spreading, blinding all color
into ashes, bright
behind my eyelids.
Tongues of wind
drove me onward or upward
into the hot fugue,
the silk-volumed swell –
until I remembered
my name. Language returned
next. In panic I clutched
at the nearest current. It slipped
through my fingers with a sigh.
The thousand-faced air
spit me out. Below:
the flat sea, the tethered tides.
Meg Yardley lives in the San Francisco Bay Area. Her work has recently appeared or is forthcoming in publications including Rogue Agent, SWWIM, Bodega Magazine, Literary Mama, and District Lit.
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Beautiful Meg!