Night Work01 / 2
Critique
012026-09-20

Kitchen, 3 a.m.

Mara Okonkwo

Free verse · Memory

The fridge hums its one noteand I stand in its lightlike a man being questioned.

Nothing in here is mine.The milk belongs to tomorrow.The cold belongs to the house.

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Up nextInstructions for Leaving a CountryTake the photographs out of their frames; the frames are heavier than the years. Take the recipe your mother never wrote down, which means take your mother, which means take the morning she stood over the pot and would not say how much. Leave the plates. Leave the good ones especially — you will not be the kind of person who has occasions for a while.