QUEER BOY AS CRUCIFIXION
Your mother discovers you are queer
from the neighbour’s son who goes to the
same school as you and calls you a shame.
Your mother calls you a shame,
the same way she said shame when
she realized your uncle was queer and
died from anal cancer.
To evict the shame, she calls a curse,
she lay you down on the concrete passage floor
and pours what is left of her bottle of olive oil
on you until you become a mail sent to God
through prayer, until God doesn’t give a reply
and she speaks in tongues as if speaking
in tongues is a means for courting God’s
attention and yet nothing comes like a revelation.
On Sunday, when the priest talks about queer bodies,
your mother eye-shames you and sighs.
You look up to the crucifix on the altar
and think of all the things the Romans
did to Christ and yet he forgave.
You think of all the things you have undergone,
all the crosses you have carried in school, at home;
in the circle of your peers; and think yourself as Christ,
but you must forgive and be crucified for
queer bodies is a metaphor for crucifixion.
You are in the line of Christ,
not even death can pull you out of this miracle
IN THIS MOVIE
In this movie, there are no action films without monsters
in this movie, my country is an action film
in this movie, I’m the monster and protagonist
my country is the antagonist with large guns and bombs
when I feel safe it opens its holsters
and I’m nothing but a burning
I’m the monster and protagonist
my country is the antagonist with large guns and bombs
when I feel safe
it opens its holsters
and I’m nothing but a burning
Where I Come From, There Are So Many Beautiful Songs For The Dead
to be queer in this country is to wear too much black for funerals /
to be dragged out of the closeted embrace /
to bear too much loss / to carry the whole city in your belly /
i left black holes for thickest skin / and blood /
my elastic heart took an oath of resistance
from hostile tongues and foul teeth / in this country /
we are buried the places they want us to be /
we say our names before looking up to god
for the promised America / existing is like drawing
too near a black hole / once I held a boy’s ash /
renamed it, my new saviour, / once I bent my waist
to the tomb of a boy / I spilt his tomb with sunflowers and roses /
I Lazarused his bones /
my scream was loud as I said resurrect /
I called the country that born and fed me dead /
and I heard beautiful songs/lyrics like the sound of the living /
like the sounds of the wind making good songs /
and then I called myself beautiful /
and like a fierce chase/death took my casket away from me
About The Poet
Ugonna-Ora Owoh is a Nigerian poet and model. He is a recipient of a 2018 Young Romantics/ keat Shelley prize and a 2019 Erbacce Prize. He is a winner of a 2019 Stephen A Dibiase International poetry prize and a 2018 Fowey short story prize. He was a highly commended poet for the 2019 Blue nib Chapbook Contest. His recent poems are on Confingo Magazine, The Malahat Review, The Matador Review, The puritan, Vassar Review or elsewhere. He is featured in Pride Magazine and Puerto Del Sol Black voices series.
Instagram – @Ugonnaoraowo