The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: local remdies by Chiagoziem Jideofor

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this poem

this poem assumes you’ll live a long life.
this poem assumes you’ll lose babies, sustain a level of detachment, wield a mouth,
       a potent mouth.

this poem assumes you aren’t like others—just here, idling and waiting.
this poem assumes people like you are taken out of the line, quizzed repeatedly.

this poem assumes the thousand beads around your waist are not of prayers, but
       droplets from home, water turning green in a bottle.
this poem assumes your regrets are of never eating enough.

this poem assumes you aren’t in danger.
this poem assumes you have more wisdom than to pick sides.

this poem assumes your loneliness comes from a room, all that burning and pining
this poem assumes you are a believer until you are pushed by stronger hands.

this poem assumes your success is an uptown apartment that barely allows
       twenty steps.

this poem assumes you only need friends who would point you out in a crowd,
none of that disdainful look at your locs, just love and pristine energy.

this poem assumes there are arms hugging the fright out of you.
this poem assumes home is anywhere that lets you keep your name.

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