Robert Okaji
Clandestine
How did you slip so deftly past those bottled
years, through my ribcage and into the safe
room never before broached? I am the little
stones you gather, the morning's obsidian eye.
Though the wind's unseen fingers caress you,
coveting in a way I cannot, my hand, warm
against your pale belly, knows the truth of
contrast and heat, of flesh and gnarled bark.
Unveiling these furtive moves, our love smelts
tears into nuggets, transforms nights into
blue sky, sultry chatter into celestial song.
Our secrets kiss the dark quiet.
years, through my ribcage and into the safe
room never before broached? I am the little
stones you gather, the morning's obsidian eye.
Though the wind's unseen fingers caress you,
coveting in a way I cannot, my hand, warm
against your pale belly, knows the truth of
contrast and heat, of flesh and gnarled bark.
Unveiling these furtive moves, our love smelts
tears into nuggets, transforms nights into
blue sky, sultry chatter into celestial song.
Our secrets kiss the dark quiet.
Biography
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The author of five chapbook collections, most recently I Have a Bird to Whistle (Luminous Press, 2019), three micro-chapbooks and a mini-digital chapbook, Robert Okaji lives in the Texas hill country, where he occasionally works on a ranch. His work has also appeared in such publications as North Dakota Quarterly, Crannóg, Vox Populi, The Lake, Boston Review, Panoply, Oxidant|Engine and elsewhere.
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