So un-asleep, the sheet’s
a beach of footprints
waiting for the tide.
Question-marked, crucified,
an inquisition
scales her eyes.
Wincing at infinities,
she picks a spot
and stares at it.
Each star a prick,
a javelin
thrown across the centuries.
She holds her breath
and waits the pin
before light breaks
her open skin.
Ray Miller has been writing poetry about 10 years on a regular basis and has appeared in lots of magazines – Antiphon, Snakeskin, Prole, Open Mouse. He is an ex-psychiatric nurse, now retired. He has a marvellous wife and 8 children, 4 of whom are adopted.
Foxglove Journal 