When the doctor said to your mother,
She walked out of the clock
I painted three scenes:
First, your breath went anti-clockwise: the hour
hand walking backwards until it was swallowed by time.
Second, you crossed out of time with the minute hand
stuck between your teeth — night had slipped into your mouth.
Third, you drained your mother’s chest and poured
yourself into it; swinging back and forth begging for gravity.
Pain, too, is a child.
Zaynab Bobi (Frontier I) is a Nigerian-Hausa poet, digital artist, and photographer from Bobi. A student of Medical Laboratory Science at UDU Sokoto and a winner of a Pushcart Prize, she has published in Strange Horizons, FIYAH, Lucent Dreaming, Agbowó, and elsewhere.