Day Unresolved

So un-asleep, the sheet’s

a beach of footprints

waiting for the tide.

Her shape is 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

makes waves

not deep enough to swim

before light breaks

her open skin.