Icarus, in the Venn Diagram

Icarus, in the Venn Diagram

tell me 

why we stop

before the lines

converge,

speaking always 

in hesitation. 

in the absence, 

I settle for 

heatstroke, 

with nails cut too short, 

the whispers of 

false bone  

across my lap. 

head lolled back, 

my ear to the ground. 

the earth, it murmurs

of old things reborn--

blueprints of 

a lucid dream.

tell me the story 

of Daedalus 

in the labyrinth, 

of monsters and flight. 

won't you swallow the pit 

of this fruit 

we call the sun--

let the seed burn 

a comet,

all 

the 

way 

down.

and if closure

is a myth, 

give me 

a soft landing

where the pencil lines

thin, 

epicenter, origin; 

let me lie 

in the overlap

where the 

ripples are born 

to die.