Sahib’s Waiting

Sahib’s head
swings in an arm-chair
while waiting for his son.

A midnight fox howls.
His son hasn’t returned
yet. Disquietude deepens.

Curls of smoke
stain adolescence
in the cannabis lit night.

His son washes
his wounds in rum. His
stepmother’s tongue was sharp.

Bell rings, as usual.
Sahib opens the door.
His mind’s hinges grate.

His son passes by
as an emperor from
the lawless kingdom,

staring with his
sin streaked eyes.
Reek of liquor mutes Sahib.

Each night burns
until its edge. Waiting
is love’s non-profit pain.

First published in Scarlet Leaf Review