It’s a little ways to Heaven
but the farthest place to travel—
out my window
through the alley
where you found me, collar broken;

there are mirrors in the attic
that you placed there to remind me
that a ghost can
haunt a dwelling
with a body and a heartbeat

well then maybe the horizon
stretches further than my bedroom,
past the street signs
and the shoreline
of the ocean, past the islands

where I thought I saw Orion,
on a hunt, perhaps, for something
irreplaceable
and priceless
he could take back to Poseidon

in the end he came up empty,
(there’s a lesson in there, somewhere)
which is why I
haunt the attic—
I never cared much for the sea.

A gap-toothed
grin—
maple syrup
skin,

and eyes
alight,
all blue and
white;

beyond the
grasp
of
prejudice,

your laugh is
truth—
I’ll follow
you.

Silent baby
Love alone, don’t worry other people
About your tears
Silent hill, but somehow it tells me to look down
Just to imagine how it looks if I jumped to this beautiful shore
So blue to you if you’re so shallow
It’s dark to me but, that excites me
Where the real colors are
Don’t show me just a painting, tell me all about the emotions
Tell me that you cried once or twice
I really don’t care I just want to write about it.

In the mind of man
is the divinity's dwelling place.
The sanctuary where our
life is molded and patterned,
our thoughts formed either
for good or destruction.
Our lives roadmap lights
our partway into the divine will
and purpose for constructive living.
With the divine helpful hands,
we willed our lives with might,
Not of our strength,
but the inner leading of the almighty.
For those who listen to
the unexplainable inner call
within their consciousness,
the divine healing elixir
of life is unleashed,
their lives becomes
a noble one full of grace,
for their obedience links
them to the miraculous.
They feel the pains of life,
and of death,
the pain of love,
and of hate,
the pain of knowing too much,
and lack of knowledge,
pain of being sensitive,
and insensitive,
pain of having,
and of lack,
more than their peers,
for that is the cross they bear
of being who they are
in the scheme of things prepared
for only those who walk in the
part of the divine Iliad.
No complaints are needed
for their end are assured.
Answer that call now.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

I’m wrenched awake with a swaying hangover, the kind that rumbles in the back of your throat until mid-afternoon. I know that I’m late without turning my head but the only movement is the whir of the box fan in the window and the sinewy muscle of my calves twitching near the end of the bed.

It’s hard to wake up when the world outside the door has been in this way, insistent in it’s painfulness, and part of me wants to succumb to the quiet hum of this bedroom, disappear into the sheets and pretend for a moment that I never met Jordan Whitaker.

A scalding shower and a thermos of lukewarm coffee later, the sun seems way too cheery for the way my insides feel and I want to scowl at it. I swallow the bile for a moment to toss a ‘good morning’ to the old woman dragging her walking cane to the end of the driveway.

She used to drop by with cookies from time to time, but it’s been a while. I can see the toll of age and defeat on her cheeks like a fragment of my future and I have to turn away from it, towards the blinding sun mocking me quietly.

“You done yet?”

I hear his voice before I see him, taunting me in the way only a man in a position of superiority can. Archie is filthy with the kind of grease that doesn’t wash off, and all of my tricks to keep unwanted hands away, even a stubborn and unyielding androgyny, has not deterred him yet. I spit at the sidewalk before his foot lands in stride next to me, and he jerks a bit but keeps pace.

“You know, I’ve got someone on the inside of the courtroom today. Maybe you scratch my back, I scratch yours, that kind of thing?”

These words are accompanied by a haphazard set of teeth leering in some semblance of a smile. The smell alone is enough to make me want to start sprinting, but I keep my tone and pace level.

“I’m not telling you again, Archie. My leads are my own. I’ll get in there just fine.”

“Oh, the *****’s feeling feisty today, I see!”

I watch a bead of sweat collect between his eyes as he watches me, like a pockmark. “You’re kidding yourself if you think they’ll let you anywhere near the trial with the stunt you pulled last week.

You should stop taking me for granted, you know!”

I hear the rhythmic clapping
And feel the pounding of feet on the ground
As dust swirls and dances around
While I sit facing the sun
In all her divine beauty.
Encased in the wood of the red gum tree,
I am at peace.
Burnum carves my totem outside
Surrounded by holy men,
Loved ones and ancestors.
This is my signifier and protection.
I am Miki the moon
Recently returned to my tribe
Heeding the call of the spirits.
My people mourn deeply
But know I will come again
To be at one with them,
First I must commune with the great creator
Rainbow spirit of the sky
For now is the time for dreaming.