Poetry

MAY 2018

 
 Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

 

Portrait of My Father as Icarus

by LUCIEN MEADOWS

My father climbs high branches above me
While on the grass, I hold sycamore leaves

To my face—I am a caterpillar
Burrowing tiny-eyed into a wall

Of green. I face the sun, one leaf over
My eyes revealing veins, and closer, skin

Patched like quilts. Skin into cell, and I see
Small boats of light canaling into leaf

Interrupted with a shout—my father
Falling from clouds like a god, knotted ropes

His slippery wings. Arms outstretched, his eyes
Open and silent as I run to him,

Smell mint and butter of sky in his hair.
Until he moves, we stay awhile like this.


Lucien Meadows

Lucien Darjeun Meadows is a Cherokee/German+ writer born in Virginia and raised in West Virginia. His poetry has appeared in Beloit Poetry JournalEcotoneNarrativePoetry Daily, and Shenandoah. An AWP Intro Journals Project winner, he has received nominations for the Pushcart Prize and awards from the Academy of American Poets, American Alliance of Museums, and Bread Loaf Conferences. Lucien currently lives in Fort Collins, Colorado, where he explores the intersection of more traditional poetic forms/subjects with Appalachian and Native identity. His website is www.lucienmeadows.com.