by Robert Okaji

Another fractured night. Up at four, I grow
sleepy at ten, which pisses me off. I’m not
far from that eternal sleep, so wasting my
day nodding off annoys the hell out of me,
which is what dying is all about: one fat
package of annoyance festooned with ribbons
woven from frustration, false hope and frazzled
nerves. Will I be allowed in the clinical
trial, which might extend my life, or will I
simply expire, my body ravaged by those
terrorist cells because there’s no room for me?

Robert Okaji lives in Indiana with his wife—poet Stephanie L. Harper—his stepson, and cat. He’s been diagnosed with stage four lung cancer, which he finds terribly annoying. His first full-length collection Our Loveliest Bruises was published by 3: A Taos Press in fall 2024, and his work can be found in Vox Populi, Only Poems, Evergreen Review, and elsewhere.