SONNET: PORTRAIT OF A BOY LOSING AND FINDING HIMSELF AGAIN

There was a procession of people frozen in time, who sang
The song of a goat. And I, waiting for a kiss that won’t
Materialise, joined the dithyrambs. For every poem I wrote I
Inadvertently left a piece of myself in there, even when that
Is not the intention for which I wrote. I heard one time from the
Mouth of my grandma that some people lost their lives in a war
Because they couldn’t be pidgeonholed into a lineage; and she
Moulded my tongue into beads to tie my name around my neck,
Like this: I- F-E-A-N-Y-I. And when I told her I found no delight in that, I
Expressed how I longed to be called a British name like “Prosper.”
Then she called me a good arsonist who razed my world of clauses,
Phrases and mediocrity; painting a picture of what British names
Looked like: Cook, Pot, Stone, Rice…In the end, I somehow found
Myself pronouncing I-F-E-A-N-Y-I again.

Prosper Ifeanyi is a Nigerian poet. His works are featured or forthcoming in Lumiere Review, Identity Theory, Kalahari Review, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Salamander Ink Magazine, Icefloe Press, Livina Press, New Note Poetry, Terror House Magazine and elsewhere. Reach him on Twitter @prosperifeanyii.