invisible isotopes
gently rain down
onto the chins
of infants

we whisk
them
away with
soft kisses

tiny
irradiated
dust flakes
float onto
boutonniereless
lapels

we brush them
off with fresh
carnations

Oak leaves
blown from
denuding limbs
by soft puffs of
radioactive
plumes

are shaken
from our
door mats

green grass
sprinkled with
Strontium 90

is mowed
and mixed
into our
compost piles

the pristine
waters
of March
are laced with
uranium
tainted
iodine

it coolly
slakes
our
piqued
thirst

the rouge rose
gilded with
a golden plush
of soft plutonium

is plucked
to adorn late
evening
dinner tables
and exchanged
by sweethearts
as amorous
gestures
of resignation
between
condemned
lovers


Oakland
3/28/11
jbm