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 nights. 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, starring with his sin streaked eyes. Reek of liquor mutes Sahib. Each night burns until its edge. Waiting’s love’s non-profit pain. First published in Scarlet Leaf Review