Dreams on a Tamarind Road

by Prosper C. Ìféányí

When the flying fiery horses come for me

I want to wear the apocalypse like beautiful sheaths

of unicorn wings on my skin—I want the camisole, the jar,

the torch, the dead wall clock to mean something cherubic

& healing. Healing is when a man with a bullet wound

walks into a field of daisies & becomes a forest.

The night holds so many possibilities for us, we just

might be anything: shadows casting reflection down

an aisle, a bird when it lifts  prey from the frontage with

wings spread the length of a soaked bedsheet—

At the roadside, grave promises come back to life.

The primary school student at Ekpunobi junction who walked

out into the mouth of the streets returns with a tale

written over his body. His parents cannot feel his height

in the night breeze so they latch onto him the way

a miniature player holds onto his piano that the clefs & staves

might not escape his bones. In a dream that is not my own

a florist follows his dreams until he becomes one

with it. He is no more today, but I cannot say the bougainvilleas

& azaleas sitting just outside his porch don’t have his likeness.

We pursue our dreams so much we embody it even in

taste & pure light. I am not scared to dream, but how does

one not knot the ghostly possibility of footsteps disappearing

into stampedes? One day, you are standing by the bus stop

fiddling with your pen & note,                 & next the girl you love is

a poetry of existence itself—by which she happens

as the sea—by which she’s the daughter of the goddess Oya

& her veins flow down her neck like tributaries of a river.

A river forbidden to touch & made to wear a consciousness.

By way of wanderlust, you follow:

      you who have known fear all your life, like the docent rat,

remains unflinched—even by a sudden burst of light spilled

   on the tamarind road.

(Editors’ Note: “Dreams on a Tamarind Road” is read by Matt Peters on the Uncanny Magazine Podcast, Episode 60A.)

Prosper C. Ìféányí writes from Lagos, Nigeria. A finalist for the 2024 Greg Grummer Poetry Prize and a finalist for the 2023 Gerald Kraak Anthology Prize; his works are featured or forthcoming in The Offing, Strange Horizons, Salt Hill Journal, Obsidian, ANMLY, Black Warrior Review, Lolwe, Uncanny Magazine, Denver Quarterly, New Delta Review, the Oxonian Review, 20.35 Africa, and elsewhere.