By Jack B. Bedell
I remember exhaustion, my bones getting heavy, the sound of pants hitting the floor. I can still hear the hum of the box fan, feel the coolness of the sheets on my legs. I remember trying to run the list of things I needed to do in the lab the next day, somehow losing the thread between 3 and 7 and having to start all over again. From there, though, only the mornings and the doings remain. Here and now in the dark, everything’s just hunger waiting for the sun.
Jack B. Bedell is Professor of English at Southeastern Louisiana University where he also edits Louisiana Literature and directs the Louisiana Literature Press. Jack’s work has appeared in Pidgeonholes, The Shore, Cotton Xenomorph, Okay Donkey, EcoTheo, The Hopper, Terrain, and other journals. He served as Louisiana Poet Laureate 2017-2019.
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