autobiography

           with a phrase from Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy”

a name is a noose that won’t let you be.
my full name was once woven from three
fibers, a cord of three that i dare to break

into two knots on a tongue. please excuse,
foreman, my Hebrew. Yirmeyahu means God
is high. it’s why i love the tower from distance.

O- means void. O- means hollow. touch this
hollow, O lord & cede my mane. a name
is an accusation i can’t answer. you charge

me wrong so i’ll make it easy for you, O alien
of extraordinary ability at crossing borders,
at building towers into a nightsky where spires

& masts pin blinking red stars to the skyline.
Àgbà-akin, the palace chief cornerstone; some
-times can be a stumbling stone on your tongue

as gb resists fission. the builders speak in vain.
a name is a sentence flattened with a gavel.
a name is a question. where are you; among

the Yorubas, gb? the eight on the Latin script?
on the eighth day, many bring names for the un
-christened. i lied when i said three. i’ve more

epithets in me: Yínká, encroach me. moat me.
Ayọ̀, joy, beautiful sparks of the gods. convened
to a shaft of light. Àlàní, one we survived to have.