i had wings once,
they were strong.
i lifted the wind with them.
pushed still water to swell.
i kicked up foam,
trailed a delirious blaze
i sang to rawness,
such as tried the fury of the reaching waves to quell
the sun snagged in me, tore the breath from my body,
superimposed itself over my eyes
behind me, thready and faint, someone called, but the wind in my ears and the blinkering tug of glare cut through any such mortal ties
a branching spark in my chest,
spilling out from my throat,
bursting in a hitching gasp, realisation and resolve and hubris like only a boy drunk and dumbstruck by beauty can tote.
bright, marrow deep and scalding,
like i’d spent my life till then in a daze;
its colour was more than gold, more than any gilded garbed god i’d ever dreamed, embroiled as i’d been, featherless, in my fathers maze
he seemed like something i could grasp, a peach of honeyed juice and yellow-orange meat
like i could roll him across the palm of my hand,
like something i wanted to eat.
and so i arched up and up;
a bow-curve of bronze resolve and rooster strut
and i reached for him like the ocean still surged up for me,
a parenthesis mar on the hazy sky, a salt-water weeping cut
my heart and resolve a throbbing knot in my throat,
i swiped a kiss from gods own lips,
his surprise leapt between us like flint-struck sparks,
pulse to pulse,
heel to tip
the heat of him was encompassing,
the sting of it made me flinch,
everything of me wished to be touched by that of him,
it tore me to shreds, slid me, dazed, into to boiling water, inch by burning inch
the sun loved me once,
the ocean too.
burnt and streaked with arching spray,
and only this,