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the evening her navel reminded her of mother

On the flyleaf of her Bible,
a girl crafts a collage of you;

your tousled hair, a thatched roof in flames;

breasts as withered ivy clinging to the body
of a blank gravestone;

face cut from a mirror
reflecting a pebble sinking quickly into a lake;

there’s also your belly bulged
enough to fit in her body as a stillborn.

In Kakuri—that night—you were Lot’s wife
looking over her shoulders to retrace
the bush where you dumped her in a carton

but the path had meandered
into a house of green-eyed shadows that call you
mother from a shelf of bottles.

Martins Deep (he/him) is an Urhobo poet living in Kaduna, Nigeria. He is a photographer, a digital artist, & currently a student of Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria. His most recent works have appeared, or are forthcoming, in Lolwe, 20.35 Africa: An Anthology of Contemporary Poetry, FIYAH, Cutbank Literary Journal, Existere Journal of Arts & Literature, Brittle Paper, Barren Magazine, Agbowó Magazine, & elsewhere. He tweets @martinsdeep1.

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