More poetry, sorry.

[i_id]

Of Wings

As long as the wings were furled, they felt no awe.
Though angels felt joy to fly
and they never rested longer than need.
Above our heads, they never slept long.

As flags furled for nightfall, they came.
We watched their wings fill our sky
and awe stayed our hands from reaching.
They were too pure to touch.

As one they lighted on our town, every roof.
Their shadows stretched as long as streets
and they came for us.
A flare of wings and a missing child.

Awe was their right by daylight.
Fear, they wanted at night.



Superman

What was it like
to wear the icon?
And see yourself in flight on screen.
The great hero
in red and yellow and blue.

I still love your movies.
You were my first hero
when Batman was too scary.
You turned back time,
and I wish you could have turned it back for yourself.
Fifty two.

Mild-mannered actor
Did you fear
vanishing in the myth?
Perhaps that horse saved you
from typecast fame.

I liked your movies more
after the horse.
And the wheelchair became something beautiful.
I practiced what it would be like
to be so very still
and still alive.
and liked it.



And yet another write-up of The Derek Story.  I'm polishing it up towards publication, and would love feedback.