A Doll Present from My Mom

when we went to the country to celebrate thanksgiving// clouds gathered above our home// like mucus// & clogged the sky// the sky had a runny nose// & it went to bed without a napkin// on that same night my mother’s swollen belly began to boil// a thing kicked and kicked till a sachet of water// dropped from underneath her groin// but this water was red like carrot juice// it formed tiny rivers on her earth-colored thighs// & tributaried into the blue marble tiles// the color of oceans// i
was there i could do nothing// she was like a tv so i watched// when my father woke// he lifted a whole river from the earth// and bundled it into his car// his car leaked// like it was flooded// & i watched it drive into the night// watery mucus dripping from the sky// forks of lightening trying to pick darkness// trying to pick water// trying to pique the situation of that night// when my mother
came back// she dropped a still thing on the dining table// a silicone doll// & i pulled at its hair// i played with it all night// & took it everywhere i went// only still things can birth still things// my father said one morning// stagnant rivers birth famines// a stingy sky births a cracked earth// harmattan lips// my mother was not the same after she leaked carrots// she became an antique// soapstone stature// ice blank stare// eyes like the moon// she walked round the house like a half clogged gutter// i was still a child & couldn’t understand// one day my doll’s hair began to fall off// & its skin began to peel// like fish scales// the smell of my doll stuck to the walls of our home// like paint// it smelt like rotten food// it smelt like my mother// it smelt like our country home// after my mother became a river// my father also became a star// he walked into nights// & became distant// one day after the summer was over// & everything was back to normal// i saw a lifesize doll in my mother’s room// it lay still like a picture// i could see it was once alive// i dragged it out of her room// & stood it up in my room// my new play thing// my new doll// and i went to the bin// the big bin outside our city home// and tossed the first doll// i got from my mother into it.

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Ebuka Evans is a Nigerian-born poet. In 2021 he was a finalist for the Stephen A. Dibiase Poetry Prize. He was also mentioned as a Semi-finalist for the 2021 Jack Grapes Poetry Prize. 

You can find his poetry on Third coast, Kissing Dynamite Poetry, Rigorous, Glass Mountain, MacGuffin, Roadrunner Review, 20.35 Africa: An Anthology, New Feathers Anthology, Defunkt, Nanty Greens, Deracine, Nigeria News Daily’s Poetry Column, The African Writer and Kalahari Review.