Past the point where sand collides with crosshatched blues
I consider my life
Like the time when flux led to flight
or when I was pinched and perched—
feet drenched, fixed to fear.
Heart bleeding to drift.
When I had wings–I raced with Icarus.
Until father realized, and took to sky with scissors in hand.
I landed on earth with a
Herculean thud—
surrounded by blackness.
Creation and destruction
wield power—
with blankets and fire.
Coughing, I trip on old residue.
past the point where sand collides with crosshatched blues,
my eyes drift across the horizon.
I notice, among the hatches,
a new layer beginning to form—
sapphire blue threading seamlessly into sky.
Published in The South Shore Review June 2021.