A Plastic Bowl of Snake There was bowl on my kitchen slab Its flesh was plastic Or was it ceramic It was the colour of seduction Drizzling with beauty Coated in nsibidi Spiced with the language of the fathers It drew my name Wrote my name Sang my name even Beside it was a clay bowl Bland Screeching of ugliness Lidless It called my name Are you kidding me? I reached for the white lid Of the beautiful red plastic bowl I flipped it open A An And Out popped the slithering head of a snake As if it had long-awaited this day The freedom promised someday The freedom covered in hay It stayed with my freedom I fled with its fear
~ Kasimma is an alumna of Chimamanda Adichie’s Creative Writing Workshop, IWP workshop, and SSDA Flow workshop. She’s been a writer-in-residence in artists’ residencies across Africa, Asia, and Europe. Her works have appeared or are forthcoming on The Puritan, Kikwetu Journal, Kweli Journal, The Book Smuggler’s Den, Jellyfish Review, Afreecan Read, Orbis Journal.