i.

When I get bored of staring

down at the grass beneath my feet,

I tilt my chin towards the heavens and

let honeysuckle petals kiss my skin.

And oh, father, the skies are beautiful.

I want nothing more than to touch the sky.

ii.

I tell father that I want to leave.

I tell him that I want to go home: to Athens.

He laughs dismissively and warns about

the dangers of the Aegean, but when I

Point up to the nightingale that nests

in the small dip in our roof and again

Tell him that I want to go home,

He understands.

iii.

You know how sometimes you

Dream to be something beautiful, like a

Hyacinth pillar stretching to the sun?

I dream to be a phoenix.

iv.

Yes, the skies from my backyard were

A sight to behold, but they are even more

Breathtaking up close. It's no wonder why

The Gods never leave their heavenly home.

"Fly, Icarus," father calls from the earth

So far below, and I do.

v.

Father warned me not to fly too high,

but the single golden coin

That looms above calls for me,

Pulsing and blazing and beckoning me nearer.

It is so close that I can feel its heat,

and it is even more sweltering

than it was two summers ago

Over sour plums and toothy grins,

and oh, father, the sun is beautiful.

I want nothing more than to touch the sun.

vi.

I am no longer a phoenix

when I hit the waves.

When the wax melts against my back and

my face is scorched with windburn I am a stone,

But I am not afraid. I do not fear Hades.

When the ocean roars, I bare my teeth

And I roar back.

vii.

I tell the seas that I want to leave.

I tell them that I want to go home: to Crete.

I want nothing more than to be with father again.

Something like rope coils around my ankle.

Oh, Icarus, a voice sings, as gentle as the

pattering of rain against soft soil,

This is your home now.