“at least” is the phrase apologists use
to characterize icharus
icharus, so white
his teeth, icharus, so straight
his gait, his cell phone coverage,
great, at least
they say
at least the sea,
at least the chariot wheel,
as if those poor teeth were even covered
there in ancient greece, the fried
chicken spots on the toga, the shadow of icharus
the slow strum of feathers
that are hardly worth noting
except when they are finally moving,
as they renovate the sky,
except when lazing about, viscous
and thick, accept the thin hips and whiteness
of feathers, be
in the moment, down
which is to say, as a child,
i never worried much about dragons, here bees
would see in colors i could neither differ nor dream
and i have heard caged raisins sing
and even dance effervescent on the thick lip
of a cup of mountain dew,
as if science or athleticism could save them,
or icharus, who didn’t need to fly to expatriate
for even i have lived
in many countries, i am a settler myself
of ribcages,
couches, language
like many pied things, and when my gullet catches
the dulcet blue groan,
my body a bully of purple light,
i am most at home, there in the shade
of a phalanx, the sun coming down on me
like a surprise
the way that as you advance
with age, all surprises are less surprising,
do you think daedalus built mazes
before or after his son consumed himself
in wonder, at least
with our age comes an unwillingness to pass
every day i think, more than the last,
now i might die, now i might die
and this little glory, the black birds are taking to the sky,
what are they
