like the mushroom cloud
that follows mankinds’ greatest foible
all the rouge neutrons
the atomic sun abomination
delicate soot piles to the smudge horizon
clouds for the manic frolic of dirty cherubs
or a confused mutant thing
that was supposed to be an insect
i am the concave ash center
the ground-down dredges
of what happened before you got here
what happens when we let heaven cinder
feather-dust stirs
with the slightest disturbance
marks every surface
you and your radiation-warped bottle of Windex
