Reckoning

The coffin where I keep my dead words
is open. The jewelry box, pink like young skin,
where I store trinkets is shut. The ballerina

inside her pink tutu face down
on her footed spring, waits for the hand
that opens her. She must be tired, always rising

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Jane Miller’s poetry has appeared in the Iron Horse Literary Review, Summerset Review, cahoodaloodaling, Mojave River Review, and Pittsburgh Poetry Review, among others. A nominee for Best New Poets and Best of the Net, she was a finalist in the 2017 Red Wheelbarrow Poetry Contest.

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