For Zoba
This is the eyes of what makes me who I am.
The gloss on her lips is the tongue of darkness
The contour on her face peril the skin 
of the silent lessons I fail to unlearn.
Before you bring yourself home, remember
those quills on the headlines of our pages,
those cremated sighs we deposited at a cinerarium.
Remember when your voice caged the strength
of the earth, the tears of widows and widowers
who licked forgotten drops of salty water.
Remember how we trudged with the footfalls
of sinking ships.
Before you break, remember that "melancholia" is the first name
for our footprints and that "beauty" is the surname.
Your mother's boring lull is the swirling vortex that
holds us together,
                               and remember the crippled caesura
                              in the body of this poem ||
[Never forget that I never exist]

About the Author

Nwaoha Chibuzor Anthony is a Nigerian poet and novelist who lives in Orlu, a sleepy city in the Eastern Nigeria. His works have appeared in Nantygreens, Kalahari review and elsewhere. He hopes to write his continent into a poem someday.

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *