He fiddled with the buckle on his belt
it was just a set of strings strapped to his spine
smeared with sunburnt wax
but he didn’t know any better
it was just a set of strings strapped to his spine
fashioned by his father’s fears
but he didn’t know any better
exodus was upon them
fashioned by his father’s fears
gravity pulled him down
exodus was upon them
his feet were like anchors
gravity pulled him down
down to the trident’s tides
his feet were like anchors
his wings were heavy
down to the trident’s tides
smeared with sunburnt wax
his wings were heavy
He fiddled with the buckle on his belt

© Matthew Harlovic