Image by Margie Cartisano from Pixabay

The Muffled Cry of a Woman Curled around a Lamp
Is my Mnemonic for Home

It’s morning and I remove all my voice into an empty room. I pretend the echo is not a lost voice, some peels of sound in flight, searching for better ears elsewhere. I venture out & my shoes betray me: Will shoes, soles deep into earth, stop snitching on our paths? Some nights I wake up too scared from a dream and circle my bed with salt and lavender, a little something to keep out little demons, an apotropaic I pick up from a movie scene the night before. Prayer is something I associate with mother. I don’t question for a name when I see some lady under a tree singing to grief. I don’t call it staccato when she sighs, or a disco ball when her tears trap the glow of the moon onto her face. I shy away.  Sometimes the best thing a flower can do for us is wither & fold itself into a sea of brown dots. But mother is no flower. So I say, “Stay, remain. Do not wither.”

Enotor Prosper is a drummer. Born and raised in Nigeria, Prosper currently resides in a campus at the Uniiversity of Benin, Nigeria where he studies English and literature. He’s a literature tutor and has tutored/ is tutoring in Test House tutorials (G.brains), Solid Education Centre, Premier lectures, Starbrains Tutorials. His poems and short stories have appeared/ forthcoming  in Ethel, Young Nigerian Poets Anthology, Elephantsnever, Pencillite, U-RIGHTS magazine, Okadabooks. Say, “hi” in twitter@NezyorNezy

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