Icarus, Who

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Image by Porapak Apichodilok

Who is every boy who has ever played Call of Duty, who
has ever farted in front of his friends and laughed, who has
had a snotty nose wiped by his mother or by his father, who
has cried out loud, who has cried inside, who has cried for
someone who couldn’t hear them or someone who could
but didn’t or wouldn’t, who has mowed a lawn for work,
who saved allowance to buy a rifle or a car or take a girl
out on a date, who has considered the mouth of another boy
worthy of kissing but did or didn’t kiss in the end, who has
lied to his parents, who has stayed out too late drinking,
who has run a line up his nose or taken acid in the park or
puked up vodka and hotdogs in the woods camping, who
wore white briefs as a little boy and graduated to boxers in
his teens because he didn’t want to be the only one in the
locker room with whitey tighties, who went to church and
got saved, who got baptized, who strayed from the light,
who begged for the light, who gave up on the light or didn’t,
who dreams, who does not dream, who has never dreamt,
who wishes again for dreams, who will never stop dreaming,
who plays with his bulldog, who says he’s his best friend,
who takes him through the drive through and buys him one
dollar hamburgers, who has wrestled his friends and won
and lost, who has slept on the top bunk, who has slept on the
bottom bunk, who has slept head to foot with a friend or
passed out holding him, who has fallen, who is fallen, who is
every fallen boy with a broken arm or wounded heart: Icarus.

Dudgrick Bevins is an interdisciplinary artist living and teaching in New York City. His poetry has been included in Peregrine Journal, The Write Launch, and Ashe Journal. He has two books of poetry, the chapbook, My Feelings are Imaginary People Who Fight for my Attention (Poet’s Haven), and Route 4, Box 358 (bd studios). He lives with his partner and the ghosts of two hedgehogs.

 

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