Daedalus ~ Maguire Lawrence

As I passed the throne that ruled over our dust-clothed dining table,

I peered through the jammed screen door and beyond our rotting back porch,

Glimpsing cadmic streams spilling from behind newly erected townhomes,

Remnants of the unadulterated sunsets of my youth.

Desperate to know why they deserved the light for themselves,

I dragged my father’s throne onto the porch, climbed atop, and leapt,

Chasing the last few rays to their new abode as the chair toppled behind me.

Under dusk’s cover, I broke in, dined off the fresh granite,

Danced on the linoleum until it split beneath my feet.

Once dawn’s beams scattered off the plastic pulled from the empty sofas—

Their rainbows splashing over my wings, broken and bloodied—

I called to my father, high on the porch, needle in hand,

Eyes unwavering from the torn upholstery in front of him.