Clouds capture the moon.
The shifting branch cracks,
as if shedding thought.
I add words to the kindling, a few notes.
The tune flares against the wall.
Though I hum, no one hears.
Night muffles our song.
Abandoned, the flame reaches out.
Robert Okaji lives in Texas. His knives need sharpening and his chain saw has been silent for months. The author of five chapbooks, his work has appeared or is forthcoming in Vox Populi, The High Window, Nine Muses Poetry and elsewhere.