MUSED
BellaOnline Literary Review
Fish Arrival by Leslie Tribolet

Poetry


Lost at Sunrise

Joanna M. Weston

at night I know where
my skin lies closest to bone

how one joint smooths to next
how blood runs through tendons
and murmuring life cradles thought

darkness completes my ego
leading me to the line
between hope and fact

until grey streaks the sky
when I move beat by beat
into this daytime self

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