Brief 

How brief
the moments of then, there, now
yet you dance 
a still dance 
in the space between ink-black shadows.



An Exchange of Equal Things

I told the moon 
to move further back
we want more air and light,
light between us
to sell back to ourselves
the dream she so freely gives.



Come, Sit

Lord, 
        ache with me,
I, too, want to touch the wounds 
                                                    the nails left.



A Walk in Time

If I walked all the way back 
to my father in seventy-four
to hear the maternal squish of Vaseline 
glide against his skin
to walk him to school
in the pale-grey morning light
and trace the brown breaths of his face marks,
and wave as he wobbles into the school gate,
and wait, beaming, as he wobbles out
in the brash afternoon heat
say to him: child, did your day bring you pleasure?
Only to find he’s walked to twenty-seven
to find a world empty of me who
tarries in a world long gone
fixing the collar of my father’s pale-purple uniform.
No one else did it for him.

About the Author:

Esther Ifesinachi Okonkwo is a graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, and a fourth-year PhD student in Creative Writing at Florida State University. Her works have appeared in Isele Magazine, Southeast Review, and Catapult. She’s a recipient of the 2021 Elizabeth George Foundation Grant and a 2024 Torch Literary Arts Fellowship. Her debut novel, The Tiny Things are Heavier, is forthcoming with Bloomsbury in June of 2025. Home for her is Lagos, Nigeria.

*Feature image by Emma Frances Logan on Unsplash