Icarus

There is a hole in heaven
where the clouds become tears
and fall, like rain,
like Icarus.
There the angels fear to play,
and when they tiptoe near
their wings become moths
touched
by too many fingertips.
So God posted a sign
which read: “Caution – mortality below.”
And all the angels stayed away …
except one.
Every day he would feel his way
from the security of cathedrals
and candelabras
then sit and stare into the hole,
wondering where the rain fell
and what “mortality” was.
But the strangest things of all
were the creatures below
wandering about
like so many wind-up toys—
bashing into one another
and bruising their hinges,
denting their keys,
and falling in
and out of love.
Day after day he would sit,
restlessly watching,
with his cherubic toes
dangling over the edge …
as if testing the drop.
As if wondering
just what it was like
to fall in love.