Gunpowder

The flaming medicine of guns.

The instant cure for an itch to complete a goal.

It isn’t sold in grocery stores,

or stirred into soups by cooks

or made into breads and beers.

Nor prescribed in hospitals and

sold in local pharmacies.

Accidentally invented in a search for immortality –

not found in kitchens, music, gardens and dogs –

but those do more to help us endure

our mortality

than having a taste for the aiming and firing,

and noise –

of fireworks, bombs, cannons,

and guns.

©️ July 5, 2025 Much Love, Deb Poems