Growing into my Okrika Christmas Clothes
swaying on a clothesline among a dead
uncle’s clothes;
my oversized trouser and rumpled shirt
it’ll take three or four morphing of water
and dust to fill. but boy, you must give thanks
for cell division, teeth coming out, chest
broadening, spaces this impossible only as molds,
your body being a body because, good genes.
but, ma, i hate the colours, the smell
of mothballs, industrial fabric
sprays, disinfectants hiding the history
of a body that used to live here.
my friends wear better clothes. rock denim
jackets, dem all eyes on me t-shirts, crazy
jeans, to go with dark shades, nike shoes, wrist-
watches giving off the glitters of joys
not sworn to me. yes, but half bread is better than none.
get dressed, son. we’re getting late for church.
i don’t want to go. the wind will blow
me away in this ugly wingsuit.
at least, your boots will be heavy enough
to keep you on the ground
and if they’re not, you will join the migrant
birds above flying westward, singing songs
of good fortune, and of mothers who buy
the right fits not only for the occasion
of survival.
Okrika is a Nigerian term referring to second-hand or used clothing, often imported and sold at affordable prices in local markets.
Martins Deep (he/him) is a poet, photographer, digital artist, a graduate of Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria, and a prospective MFA student of the University of Memphis. He says hi on X @martinsdeep1