Night Movements – by Daniel Ray
ISLAND | ONLINE ONLY
for Isobel
You twitch
on the boundary of sleep:
a fox
running on all fours
snouting the gold-stuff
of its dreams.
A nightjar spurts its silver-
cogged voice mathematically.
How do I divide
these moments?
I ask it. How
am I meant to package
time?
Still
the night's atoms
pinned to your left breast:
a black
rose,
your body its thorn,
the darkest star
on a bed of white.
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Image: Sunguk Kim - Unsplash
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