"Water is for drowning" the fisherman's son tells me, as he goes picking clams into his leaking pockets. "The sea gets thirsty, she calls you by your favourite wine" Whispering in my ears, he says, "Ask for driftwood whenever you feel the ears of your god open to your lips" We return to his shack, by the beach, and find his kinsmen embalming a body. "He died last night" they say. I look behind me at the wet sand seeing only my footprints. only my footprints.
Martins Deep (he/him) is an Urhobo poet living in Kaduna, Nigeria. He is a photographer, digital artist, & currently a student of Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria.
Serotonin 