ever since icarus fell
i’ve kept the metaphor under my bed
in case.
it is useful for days when leaves go dry from northern winds
and great queens fall on their heads (always upside down)
today is one of those days
because language walked out the door a week and a half ago
we argued over his irregular past participle status
and now i fear he will not return
and will choose to melt with the odd patches of snow outside my window
instead.
and i’ll be left to gather waxen wings and sew silver threads
nervous for the arrival of spring and her basket filled with ashes of what should have been.