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Sleeping Alone James Croal Jackson I spend most nights in the company of shadow, a universe to toss and turn, mind wandering in the smell of strawberry shampoo—my sheets, familiar honey. I sleep in a crater growing deeper without you. At night, birds are mostly silent. The occasional siren punctuates air and I hope you are all right, wherever you are. Without your orbit, I wake at six and the room burns me dry. There must be a medical reason for this: the heart, when under sheets, overheats but when alone becomes so cold, to sleep too long is dangerous, and the temperature drops to near the threshold of memory– my hair mussed in darkness by my pillow’s imitation of what your hands might do if they were here, wanting to be held again.


2017 Freshwater Literary Journal  
2017 Freshwater Literary Journal  

Professional literary journal produced at Asnuntuck Community College