Dayshift Caught in the Ribs
       

To crash into the architecture
of the beast is to remember
how the body is rigged:

fable me along the wicked
spine and I trip
pearlescent. A bruise.

A wonder: how sea
glasses the ribs:
windows, paneling

a horn oflight.
A chill. Day
airs me

like a sin
left to mercy:
how frost hums for bone.

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Copyright © 2018 Carly Joy Miller All rights reserved
from Ceremonial
Orison Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission