[I dreamed you were dreaming of me] by James Owens —after Andreea Ghita I dreamed that you were dreaming of me I was at once full of deer and foxes don’t come near I cried to you over my shoulder, laughing, but my arms were already moving through sleep that you refused to disavow too late , you said don’t you see, on my back arched into spring, their claws have twisted, seeking my mute blood . Bio: Two books of James Owens's poems have been published: An Hour is the Doorway (Black Lawrence Press) and Frost Lights a Thin Flam e (Mayapple Press). His poems, stories, translations, and photographs appear widely in literary journals, including recent or upcoming publications in Superstition Review, Valparaiso Poetry Review, The Cresset, Poetry Ireland Review, and The Stinging Fly. He lives in Wabash, Indiana.
Flying Island is the Online Literary Journal of the Indiana Writers Center, accepting submissions from Midwest residents and those with significant ties to the Midwest.