I run back to save myself from the arrival
the plane tucks in its wheels
and is suctioned back into the sky
the sun relapses orbit
(I have trouble remembering my dreams
like I have trouble remembering the face of the child that will one day bloom inside me)
his face like the face of the creator hovering over the deep
(I knew and yet could not be known)
I look down and watch the ground grow into focus
the floor becomes lava and I dissolve
only the Atlantic can tell me of my body
waves remember me well
I wash up along the shore
& the gulls sing my coronation
sing boy, with crown full of salt
boy, coughing up ghost through saltwater
I whisper the name Elmina
and the slave castle crumbles to sediment before me
wet, I dry my hands across the dust of us
lift my fingers to my face and paint my brow with mud
marvel, as my hands flicker in and out of time
(who am I but the bridge that brought me here)
drum sounds in the distance
I open my mouth and an egret raises its head to speak from the deep of me
I reach up my hands to wring the bird by the neck
(halt, fall to my knees startled by my violence)
soften into prayer
holy enough to coax the song from my throat
I fold my body around the mouth born bird
crane my neck to the sky
(bones are buried there)
a woman pounds cassava and yam
& her pestle beats against the sky
Nyame retreats (embarrassed)
my body
the pestle
I am held and pressed into that which will sustain me
(my mouth opens and is filled)
in december, I cradle a mango
peel the red green flesh till it rests a shimmer in my hand
my mouth opens and the wet drips down my face
my mouth opens and I fill and fill and fill
my mouth opens and flickers into a seed
I press the seed into the sand
a seed grows root
a seed bears fruit
before the fruit first a flower
before the flower first a bud
green and flickering
my blood blooms
Emmanuel Oppong-Yeboah is a Ghanaian American poet, editor, and educator living out the diaspora in Boston, Massachusetts. He is both Black & alive. Born in 1993, Emmanuel currently teaches 11th grade English at Cambridge Rindge and Latin School, and in the past has served as a teaching artist at organizations such as the Massachusetts Literary Education and Performance Collective, the Cambridge Arts Council, Northeastern University, and the Institute of Contemporary Art, Boston. When not kicking it with juniors, Emmanuel works as an instructor at the Boston-based nonprofit Grubstreet, and as an associate editor for Pizza Pi Press. Emmanuel’s poem, “kra-din” (Kweli Journal), is a recent recipient of the Pushcart Prize (XLIII), and in 2019 he was shortlisted for the Brunel International African Poetry Prize. In his free time, Emmanuel enjoys hot carbs, brightly colored chapbooks, and the long sigh at the end of a good book.