by Abdulbasit A. Olúwaníshọlá
“It is only through names we will be saved.”
—Romeo Oriogun, The Mystic of Small Dreams
it is only through death
our existence will be known.
we write our names on our skin.
at least, when you dig through
the rubble of our homes & find us,
our massacred bodies, with no one
to identify us, check our arms—
that is if the air strike did not cut them
off—dust them for our names. do not
chalk us on the paperboard
tagged casualties. and do not, please,
allow the air strike to rip that paper
airing us to the sky, to the world.
Abdulbasit A. Olúwaníshọlá, SWAN V, has works published or forthcoming in A Long House, ANMLY, Ake Review, BAM Quarterly, Poetry Journal, Poetry Column, Palette Poetry, Tahoma Literary Review, Ninshãr Arts, Rowayat, Haven Spec, Singapore Unbound, Sley House, Invisible City, and elsewhere. He tweets @abdulbasitoluwa. You can also find him on Bluesky @oluwanishola.bsky.social.