With urgent hands the father tears the cloth
and lays exposed his young son's faultless back.
Then, with one forearm he restrains the boy
and brands upon his shoulders welts of wax.
The pinioned body arches from the pain,
until it ebbs and leaves two garnet scalds.
Into each scar is woven, one by one,
the plumage of a thousand mortal beasts;
each folded, layered, blended in the seals
until at last the old man helps him stand.
New limbs respond; a canopy uncoils,
two alabaster bows to breach all bonds –
a battery of quills at his command,
no longer earthbound, Icarus ascends.
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