PoetryClaire de lune
  • Happy Icarus is leaping towards the sKy.
    Great mighty wings shine amidst the freezing sun.
    But suDdenly he frees his hands
    From his hefty feathers.
    and down, he falls.


    Falls.


    Falls.


    Oh dear, 
    How shoulD I help him?
    Should I heLp him?
    Why?
    With my tiny hands?
    No, I shOuld wait for someone else.
    SomEone who can truly help him.
    Someone who has giant Limbs.
    What is today's dinner?
    He falls.

    Falls.

    Falls.

    Oh, dear.
    Ishouldhelphim.
    IMUSThelpHim.
    Yes, yes, yes,
    That's the right thing to do.
    That would mean something.
    What is today's dinner?
    He falls.
    Falls.
    Falls.

    ohdear.
    ishouldgrabthatblanket,
    ortheplank?thecotton?thehay?
    shouldipraythewindtoblowhim
    tothenearbylake?theriver?thesea?
    shouldipraytojehova?totheanemoi?
    tovayu?toenlil?toshu?totawhirimatea?
    hefallsfallsfalls.

    .

    What is today's dinner?
    Oh, nothing.

    What is tomorrow's breakfast?
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