not blame nor recompense
no assuagement, no consolation, nor your brutal pity
just a fair retelling of this grievious tale

the words are all that are left
the tainted residue
charred ash upon bone white
scrawl, sprawl, scritch-scratch breaks the silence

los alamos

the consuming blight of the land
and of the fisherking’s body
and my heart, my soul
leaking out in fitful coughs
blood flecks upon my lips
still i stand
wasted upon the hallowed hearth
wastelands all around

waiting for the light to shine
furtive rasp of flint on steel
the wind steals the last bits of tinder

the gray is worse than the darkness
and still the sky bleeds white, then whiter
the sun only rises in my memory
but i do not feel her comforting warmth upon my skin

trod the empty plain
cattle long gone to slaughter
ice in my breath
blood freezing
i sneeze
still-frame, silence
death delivered in a million tiny droplets
even death dies in the void
oh God, the hills are no nearer

i heeded the siren’s song
fled wildly into the barren desert
(and though barren, the hardy grasses cling jealously to the ground
steal every tiny sip of water—in this empty place
it is kill or be killed
they cannot hear you scream)
saw visions, knowing only that i am sunstruck
my empty gaze reaching into the cosmos
and all the stars are burning at once
until all i see is light

the treacherous ground finally betrays me
stone against skull
(crashing together like flint and steel)
my heart, my soul, seeps onto the earth

though sightless,
my eyes still harbor embers
fading
as the starlight burns away everything