Icarus

by john schellhase

My father hurled

me up, released

me like a whim—

an acrobat in crazed suspense

I soared. The sun

my halo, blazed

around my hair. I was just one or maybe two.

Again, again

again, again again, he threw me up—wild fun—

into the air—

adored, amazed. If I have done

nothing else since,

that, at least that I gave to him.

And that, at least

he gave the world.

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John Schellhase is an American writer, based in Segovia, Spain, where he lives with his wife and their three children.