LOOK OUT AND TELL ME WHAT IT IS YOU SEE Prosper Ifeanyi
Sometimes I want to laugh so much at the Mouth of darkness, but my body has to be Beaten to ash first. Slowly, at first, until I am Razed to the ground; raised by a silence Deafening to almost all children, I grope To squeeze the juice of a lilac on the wound Yesterday brought. Quickersilvered into Everything made of polychrome, barbiturated Like the calm of sea; a window is shut right Where everyone refuses to look, and behold, I can hear the voice of Marley blare through The radio sitting on the windowpane, and no One dances, no even my mother, who knows The exegesis of my name like the customers Of her spool. No one does. The cranky chair on Which I sit propels itself like a gear and in that Worthwhile swerve, I try to find a concrete reason with Which I can exist. Look out the window. Yes, you. Look out the window and see if you don’t see A slice of yourself in everything: The rags, the sand, the vegetation, the knoll. We know, that you know of a time when you Wouldn’t have to look out, a time when you Will be the spectacle to be looked at. For now, Look outside and tell me what it is you see.
Prosper Ifeanyi is a Nigerian poet. His works are featured/forthcoming in Icefloe Press, Identity Theory, Lumiere Review, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Livina Press, Salamander Ink Magazine, Kalahari Review, Terror House Press, Aôthen Magazine, 2022 Libretto Anthology and elsewhere.