plummet

somewhere 
there is an Icara
a woman who flies
on intricate
feathered web
of covert
sheath
shaft
veins
warm-blooded
she breathes faster
learns to soar
ignores
the admonition
do not fly too high
her efforts full
of sky
of wind
her breasts
still flecked with honey
dripped from wings’ wax
heavy with her father’s
architecture
heavier than water
when she dives
no sun’s light
scuffs the surface.  

Ekphrastic poem written while viewing Pieter Bruegel’s “Landscape with the Fallof Icarus,” published in Bacopa Literary Review, Spring 2012