Saving Icarus at sunrise

I'm walking through a glitter of yellow dunes,
light like fused glass, sea-sheen beaching up

far far out, past a labyrinth of morning pines.
One bright bird falls, falling, feathered flames.

Water honeycombs with heat, a sublimated sigh
of blackened wings as if a body can melt, drown

in sound. Such is the hubris of cloudless wind.
Easy to flounder him unharnessed on the sand,

to strip him down to this simple alchemy of skin,
a muscled maze of gold, lashes pollened, lustrous

lines of fingers, fleece. So easy to take his mouth,
breathe him my godless air, keep him hanging there.