from the Golden Age
Nina Gitlitz '26

There are three stories inside you: 

The first one is flightless after a thousand years - 
Icarus, who gave his heart to the Sea. Or: 
“Ikaris, who Gave his Name to the island.” 
between Sun and spray is a balancing act 
too fine for your grand heart 
They prayed to your gentle corpse when you washed ashore; 
When your breath melted into the water like the wax that burned your golden skin

You sighed in relief 
and kissed your curiosity into the pockets of hopeful legends 

The second story is told for every moment of beauty - 
Imagine me, impaled on her dark eyes. 
she confessed “they called you Venus” and to me it was love 
That I couldn’t and she wouldn’t bear 
Can you picture the bliss? 
I waited for days for the goddess to strike me down 
I think her vengeance must be slow 
for all my Love is still working up the courage 

The third and last follows closely as companionship does - 
Aphrodite’s boy 
who couldn’t help but reach out a monstrous hand, a 
“walk with me, lovely Psyche” 
Making statues of her skin; 
Wrapping her in impossible wings 
all kinds of Daring to make for divine vicinity 
She kissed him quick the way she was meant to 
(braver than either that came before) 
And began the final climb