Excerpt from Book Two of The Evans Poetry Collection, "More Than a Club Kid: Man versus Self”
Son to Mother
I’m not the babe you bore
A few, short years ago
Or the child
That you must clothe, feed, cradle, cater to
I am not the infant
Sucking the warm, milky cream
From the bottom of your breast
Or the child
That you must hold, so close, so dear
Grasping my hand
Grabbing me by the arm
As I sprint on small, weary limbs
No longer are you my timekeeper
Rushing me to rise
Or songbird
Rocking me to sleep
With soft, sweet lullabies
Beneath the dance of the stars and
Glow of the moonlight
I’m not the snatcher of crumbs
Chastised when I am wrong
Or the dirty little one
That you must bathe and dry off
And whose cheeks you pinch
Between tight, wrinkled fingers
Leaving nail prints in my skin
My words are no longer your words
My thoughts are no longer your thoughts
My body is no longer your body
Take a look
A good look
A long, hard look at me
Listen to the depth of my voice
Feel the strength of my grip
I am no longer a child
I am a man Momma
A man | 
