Contributor: Craig Bradley Owens

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I rise slowly
From the cozy womb
Of flannel sheets.

Swinging my bare legs
Over the side of the bed
I sit for a moment.

The weight of a new day
Pulsates just above my eyebrows.
I’m forced to stand.

The steaming droplets
from the shower
pound the night from my skin

and the early morning talk
from the radio
crafts flaccid emotions.

I press the towel,
Damp with humidity,
Against my reddened face.

I pause in front of the
Fog-shrouded mirror
Before I dress

And shuffle off to my car.


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Craig Bradley Owens is an Asst. Prof. of English at Walters State Community College in Morristown, Tennessee. He has recently been published in the Deadmule School of Southern Literature and Black Mirror Magazine.