In the Mirror of Icarus

By Emily Strauss

Icarus looked up at the endless blue sky and knew 
he must defy the gods, climb into the firmament to the sun.

The diver looks down at the wide blue bowl of the ocean
down from the highest ridge, down three thousand feet 

and knows he must try to leap into the depths that beckon, 
down into the waves and surf and tides that crush the cliffs

float out on the rising air, invincible above the water, dive 
perfectly, arms out, feet together, smooth body feeling the rush

the breeze turns hard and brutal, watch with wide eyes as
the water draws near, wait for the knife cut that would tear

wings from his shoulders, the slice of cold wave that envelops 
the limp figure, the moment that fate shows kelp and jellyfish

to eyes accustomed to the clear air above, his lids now 
pulled taut against his cheeks as the force of solid water hits.

Just as Icarus flew high but lost his wings, the wax melting away,
the diver would fly out and down into the blue air thousands 

of feet below, the ocean urging him, his body an endless warm
vessel which becomes cold and solid at the end, at the waves.

Emily Strauss has an M.A. in English, but is self-taught in poetry, which she has written since college. Over 500 of her poems appear in a wide variety of online venues and in anthologies, in the U.S. and abroad. She is a Best of the Net and twice a Pushcart nominee. The natural world of the American West is generally her framework; she also considers the narratives of people and places around her. She is a retired teacher living in Oregon.