Sonnet for Eunice*

Lady Ἴκαρος, soaring higher than her Δαίδαλος
She burned to the quick of the almond leaves
So bright, she blot out the sun all these years
Higher and higher until, melting in eloquence

She fell, rhymes folding, as they rustled noisily
Like silk, and Shea-butter dripping poignantly
Crepuscular and driven, feminine in their irony
Arresting epigrams weeping, hiding their agony

And now fallen, food for the rolling, roaring sea
Better that than feeding the beastly Minotaur she
Leaves me feathers sexy calamus sweet as Chablis
Yet bittersweet like those leaves of an almond tree

Leaves, lines, and rhymes seek her to please alone,
Whom if ye please, Εὐνίκη, I care for other none.

*Remembering Eunice De Souza, Poet. (1 August 1940 – 29 July 2017)