by Margaux Novak
Sometimes it’s safer to lie down.
The winter gone from my skin
my shoulders open, arms outstretch
I could ruminate on past days
but regret is fickle consolation.
Instead, I turn skyward. My freckles
the Pleiades across my breasts,
the multi-blonds of my lashes
beat back against the sun.
I press my palm to my lips, whisper
down my lifeline and breathe
wisps of salt leftover from night.