Hanging hair plays on thermals;
You sit pretty, you pretty,
Like the earth's tethered child
Cast on a solar flare's hook.
The sun she lies beneath you,
And you tip your hat of stars.
Shoes slip off your dangled feet;
Einstein and Icarus smile.
What I like most about this poem is the sense of movement, or almost gravity (or lack thereof) that dominates it. There is always a struggle in our universe of greater bodies pulling smaller bodies towards them, but for some reason (the warm weather perhaps inflating the poet's soul until they start flying away) in this poem, the soul seems to be flying away from the burdens of reality and mortality. I do think that it ultimately is a poem about daydreaming instead of real escape, though. There is still the tether of a solar flare hook. Einstein still died and Icarus might be smiling, but he knows his fate shall befall you too. It is a smile of joy, but also of pity.
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