Gunpowder, a poem by Abiodun Salako at
Apothecary 87



written by: Abiodun Salako



It is not that I knew my parents
dedicated me to the God of the unknown

or that jet black can mean hair/
beauty/ dent of a smile bent backwards

but first, it is through you that I knew
the bruise on the back of a
mango doubles as my skin

I never truly learnt the
basis of arithmetic

Until a tongue that fished
in my mouth was subtracted

Until additions can actually mean
not the doubling of something

But of nothing: let’s think of how leaving
and staying can multiply the same thing

Of how emptiness can be added to emptiness:
that is the power of grief

And then, blowing or banging, you ask me,
‘are you gun or gunpowder?’

Latest posts by Abiodun Salako (see all)