Poetry: Nuclear


One summer night I split her like an atom,

Releasing waves of energy that could nourish

And sustain populations for half-lives

Of fifty thousand years:

She loves to fuck; I accept no reward

For discovering fission; my role is the thumb

In the leather glove releasing the payload,

A simple reflex in a maze of events.

Before her terrifying manifestation there were years

Of development where she spun like a model proton

In dead stability, between pressures of diseased morals

And immoral disease.

But now she is safe,

Free of judgment and sentence,

Exploding in fury

With incalculable joy.

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