by Robert Okaji
I wait, but only leaves brush the door.
Longing for one fragrance, another finds me.
The gray sadness blankets my dwindling hours.
What comforts more than the bird’s flashing wing?
Two numb fingers spell the elbow’s failure.
The choice of no choice.
I demand nothing more than everything.
Distance gnaws its trapped foot.
The fretboard lies cool under my hand.
Tea lurks in the ceramic cup.
Freedom lives where the sun sets.
Your lips will fill the emptiness.
Robert Okaji is a displaced Texan seeking work in Indiana. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Vox Populi, ISACOUSTIC*, Slippery Elm, North Dakota Quarterly, and elsewhere.