I
On the first day of the apocalypse, we swallowed one-quarter the amount of grief our father’s
fathers bred Everything we did felt justified in the rain
II
Every day the calendar read December 14th, a strange woman would come into my head
And this is the only way I know the dead don’t really die The dead just become a group of strange
voices in time
III
Every day we traced my brother’s body [white chalk] on our mother’s body [black board]
The rain hits the floor in perfect harmony and this is how we make beautiful music of our loneliness
IV
When the scientists in Berlin discovered a time portal, while experimenting on catastrophe
As a medium to end the wild ghosts The wild voices My uncle now spoke to some unknown
hummingbird in his sleep & We never found this strange
V
On a windy day, before we let the dogs in our street go hunting For birds & rabbits & freedom
& anything that clothes itself as worthy,
My brother called the first shot & this was how the wind found straight targets in the chests of lost
children This was how we discovered the art of breathing and resuscitation
VI
When we mouth all our sadnesses This is not how we count our blessings
Water and salmon in a cup
My brother is unable to eat & This only makes my father a symbol for everything in the void
For everything that is not an appetizer
VII
When we hit the roads, I wonder if someday the technology would make the speedometer of cars
Read up to 360° & wonder Would we move in circles or would we pause at light speed
VIII
Inside a corner closer to the sunrise than to the shore Boys are learning to swim
My brother feels more comfortable in his convalescent body than in water So everyone in my
family never learned to swim
IX
On the day I left home for the wilderness My mother cautioned me to never drown in the Nile
The next day On the news Six boys poured into the Nile and my mother’s name is six characters
long Call me lucky Call me Hannah Call me flower
X
In the wilderness, I prefer garri to curry The former is closer to home
The latter is closer to the loneliness This is me Saying I would not drown
And I would not be poured I’m my own flower and pollen I’m the sapling of light too brief to
be quantified in quantum mechanics
Abdulrazaq Salihu is a Nigerian award winning poet. He has his works published/forthcoming in Brittle Paper, Masks Lit Mag, Kalahari Review, Pine Cone Review, Rogue, and elsewhere. He won the Masks Lit Mag poetry award, BPKW poetry contest, Nigerian prize for teen authors, Splendors of Dawn poetry contest, and more. He is a member of the Hilltop Creative Arts Foundation and has been living for too long inside his head.
Featured image by Anthony Lee on Unsplash
