What Follows Robert Okaji, Poem His hand can't collect what he finds at daybreak. Traffic rumbling, pulses ticking and the layered smells of dried leaves and last night's pizza. Her smile, in sleep. In ecstasy, even while the week's tasks drain through his punctured pockets and nothing deters memory and the never was. Wondering why it took so long. How stress surrendered, and what follows. Perhaps I am, he thinks, justified in my actions. Like the red shouldered hawk ripping into the squirrel. Like last year's tornado. And all the broken trees.
Robert Okaji lives in Indiana. The author of multiple chapbooks, his work has appeared or is forthcoming in Vox Populi, riverSedge, The Big Windows Review, North Dakota Quarterly and elsewhere.