icarus in the gloaming

By | 15 May 2023

i cannot deny the sky was alluring as Instagram
despite curfew, gulls flying south
into torn edges of violet-hued clouds.
the power of bigotry is a machinery, often brutal
returning from naarm, almost touching the moon
before the next cruelty-free landing,
you asked me, what did i do with my life?
woke blunders, small embarrassments in the precinct,
you know, the maze our fathers invented, prize and demise?
i started a mutiny, gave birth, scribbled on my palm.
bought an ostrich feather boa scarf on Etsy.
high as His Highness, i lived with blackouts,
lost sight of dad over chalk farm where the canal
meets the lock. like the mechanical buckle of a train’s
burning axle, like those delicious evenings
when schoolgirls walk the street, smoking weed,
lights flashing through the trees, i could hear traffic,
sirens at noon coalesce with whipper snippers,
frogs, cicadas, soon it would be the hour of bats.

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