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The Icarus School of Aviation

  • Writer: Eve Yarrow
    Eve Yarrow
  • Feb 4, 2023
  • 2 min read

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At the rate of which the cavalries of

Belial & Moloch plummeted from Heaven

by the Tyrant God; at the rate which,

moments later, the chunks of pomegranate 

tumbled down my gullet; at the rate which

my garments were flung into oblivion

and my sisters cursed to bleed periodically - 

aye, that was the rate my 

sanity drained when the Summer Harbinger

hailed for the harvest’s advent.

Days past by like a cityscape timelapse, 

sun & moon bound in grand canario,

as I close my eyes to sleep one second

and then wake up the next.

Half a decade ago, if you asked me

whither I would be now, with confidence,

I would have proclaimed myself in

New York, published & ready for law school,

becoming America’s Next Top 

Martha Gellhorn/Elle Woods love-child.

I certainly wouldn’t anticipate myself

still trudging along, searching for 

my course of clarity.

I’m out of the woods, but with each step,

the gravel road dissipates behind me;

it’s no longer raining, but I am 

forlorn, frigid, & frightened. 

But what else should I expect when

every night and every morn’, I’m greeted with

dried, liquid eyeliner inches from 

stained, forever-o’-clock shadow,

sinking my vocal cords deeper, deeper

into a whiskey & leather abyss,

as the bulge in my mini-skirt refuses to tuck.

Aeons from the blessings of Venus’s Vanity,

I am more Lemmon than Lake.

Crossdressers don’t get happy endings,

we settle with just “good enough.” 

Loftiness is an opulence only afforded

to pretty cis girls.

Daydreaming cuts into time where

I could be apologizing for my existence.

I’m a Hephaestus who wants to live like Dionysus. 

But I’d rather die than continue 

working myself into destitution, 

without even the satisfaction

of my own satisfaction, creating the

work I so proudly wanna bestow my name.  

I wish to write poetry, curate art, 

host extravagant galas while wearing

luxurious gowns and stretch colossal 

færy wings while all friends gather

and in hushed tones exclaim 

“eve has wings!

eve has wings!

eve has wings!” 

 
 
 

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