Daedalus in Oxyana

By WILLIAM BREWER

Was an emperor of element within the mountain’s hull,

chewing out the corridors of coal,

 

crafting my labyrinth as demanded.

My art: getting lost in the dark. 

 

Now I practice craving;

it’s the only maze I haven’t built myself and can’t dismantle.

 

I gave my body to the mountain whole.

For my body, the clinic gave out petals inked with curses.

 

Refill, refill, refill, until they stopped.

Then I fixed on scraping out my veins,

 

a trembling maze, a skein of blue.

Am lost in them like a bull

 

that’s wandered into endless, frozen acres.

Times my simple son will shake me to,

 

syringe still hanging like a feather from my arm.

What are you always doing, he asks.

 

Flying, I say. Show me how, he begs.

And finally, I do. You’d think

 

the sun had gotten lost inside his head,

the way he smiled.

 

[Purchase Issue 13 here]

William Brewer is the author of I Know Your Kind (Milkweed Editions, forthcoming 2017), winner of the National Poetry Series, and Oxyana, selected for a Poetry Society of America Chapbook Fellowship, also forthcoming in 2017. Currently a Wallace Stegner Fellow at Stanford University, he grew up in West Virginia.

Julia PikeDaedalus in Oxyana

Related Posts

Brown Horse Grazing Vertical Flickr Creative Commons

“Nature of Exile” and “Mary”

IGOR BARRETO
Oh, woods and lakes of Medford, / if it wasn't for you / what would I have done / with myself. / I would never have worn the jacket / and the… strung / whip / of the learner rider. / My teacher was a German called / William Locklear, / [a]… man who loved / the poems of Heine...

"De Puerto Rico: Un Ano Despues de la Tormenta"

Poems from Puerto Rico: Mara Pastor

MARA PASTOR
Navels end sometimes. / Before that happens, / the body draws a road… / to the place of areolae / where you will calm your hunger. / Origin of anthill / of white light that from me / will return to you to teach us / that a navel ends / when another is / about to begin.

Tom Paine

Bovine

TOM PAINE
I magnified the spine through a glass of water. Exquisite. I gingerly set the little spine aside on a plate, took another tentative bite of sardines, and while wondering whether you ever feel we made a mistake, felt a tiny spine adrift on my tongue. I shattered it under bovine molars ...