Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew.

    It's the same when love comes to an end，

    or the marriage fails and people say

    they knew it was a mistake， that everybody

    said it would never work. That she was

    old enough to know better. But anything

    worth doing is worth doing badly.

    Like being there by that summer ocean

    on the other side of the island while

    love was fading out of her， the stars

    burning so extravagantly those nights that

    anyone could tell you they would never last.

    Every morning she was asleep in my bed

    like a visitation， the gentleness in her

    like antelope standing in the dawn mist.

    Each afternoon I watched her coming back

    through the hot stony field after swimming，

    the sea light behind her and the huge sky

    on the other side of that. Listened to her

    while we ate lunch. How can they say

    the marriage failed？ Like the people who

    came back from Provence （when it was Provence）

    and said it was pretty but the food was greasy.

    I believe Icarus was not failing as he fell，

    but just coming to the end of his triumph.