I watched him pluck the feathers
From the carcasses of five
I watched him burning candles
On the night she almost died

I watched him with machinery
With wood, with knotted string
I watched him at the joiners’ bench
Constructing pairs of wings

Bin bags sweated through the summer
Flies began to swarm
The smell of rotting chicken flesh
Gets stronger when it’s warm

The final day of summer came
The wind began to change
And Icarus with dazzling robes
Walked up to centre stage

He shone just like an angel would
As light bounced off his face
Then words got stuck there in his throat
And left an awful taste

The leaves fell first, and then the flies
Then Icarus, before my eyes.


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