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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Death · #2249034
April 29—Rain
When disaster made a break for after-
-ward, the wrecked reactor roof
lay ruined. Wretched & regretful,
(having completely blown his top)

he wistfully remembers fission
under a past happy containment.

Radiation waves laid off from work
attach themselves to clouds, swept
off their very ions by indifferent winds.

The clouds employ & train them
for complicated jobs, something
scientific: cell splitting, DNA decay,
cancer construction. When it storms,
a farmer in Kiev gives thanks to God

and his children put out tongues
to catch the dancing drops of rain.

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