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What a feat sailing queerly like Icarus
until the tempest undid me and I broke
(Anne Sexton, from “The Break”, 1969)

You took me high and away
soaring into wide open spaces
dreadfully diving down skimming
over ‘the waves in a stormy sea.
Like a child in front of Death
firmly I held in your bewitching
embrace not to let, you slip away.
Yet now everything’s still
Castin’ words and tears away.
But your false angel wings will
be torn apart.
Backlash of the past.

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