Self-Portrait as Glass

Robert Okaji

Find form in chaos, precision
in the random. This door,
this flask, this lens. A jar
on the hill. I look through
and see myself staring back,
thinking of sand and salts
and the durability of love
in this transparent world.
But I am obsidian, a dark
iris of volcanic fire and
debris. Try as you might,
you’ll never touch my light.