by Ifeoluwa Ayandele
To The Ghost Finding Its Name at Borders
Every ghost has a name but you need
to undress them like a Christmas morning
& lead them through the streets of death.
Show them their memories and you will
see their names written in flowers of grief.
Say you are the ghost, say what you remember
of rivers, say how the rivers are in your palms,
say the rivers are lines on your palms, say how
you leave home through the rivers in your palms,
say borders & walls, say rivers swallow your ship,
say how your father named you lost, say you see
bodies floating & death playing ping pong on rivers,
say why you couldn’t cross the borders, say how
you become a ghost roaming through borders, trying
to find your name, trying to understand the meaning
of borders, trying to find a passport you never had,
trying to find love at the immigration office & trying,
to find a place that will say: I love you, too.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ifeoluwa Ayandele is a Nigerian poet. His poetry has been published or is forthcoming at Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review, Rigorous, The Concrete Desert Review, Ghost City Review, RATTLE, The Ilanot Review, Pidgeonholes, Tint Journal, MockingHeart Review, Thimble, Little Stone Journal, Glass Poetry, Verse Daily and elsewhere. He has completed his MA in English Literature at the University of Lagos, Nigeria. He lives in a room whose window faces a fence and tweets @IAyandele.
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