January blues in June halts and hisses, 

sidewinds into sleep and ignites dormant regret 

into a partial thickness burn that blisters.  

The tension turns my cervical spine to  

a frigid bridge between 

head and body.  

Nonpliable, creaking, aching to be grazed 

by the mouth of the man from the Mediterranean. 

He’s indecisive and belongs to another.  

It’s all wrong. 

Outcast here and like to be chased.  

Dismissed then forgotten is a remote locale  

to call home.  

Keeping Golfview Drive may take my mind.  

Lumina Miller has a BA in English from the University of Iowa. She works as an ER nurse, enjoys letting her imagination run rampant, and would rather be outside. Her work has been published by literary magazines Allegory Ridge, Limit Experience Journal, Equinox Biannual Journal, The Banyan Review, and others.