A Gilded Rose

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

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