At twilight, the heat becomes a giant
A giant squeezing breath from my lungs
My lungs that soak up poison like a sponge
A sponge dipped in blood fouled by poison
By poison that leaks through my eyes and mouth
I am compelled to speak of what I saw
I saw a powder flash of curved light
Curved light wider than Montana sky
Montana sky now ash darkened burnt bare
Burnt bare of clouds and stars and rain
I am compelled to speak of what I saw
I saw at twilight the sterile shrines
Shrines at Mesa Verde and Los Alamos
Los Alamos that no American could forget
Forget like a tumor eating at the brain
The brain monitoring all but itself
I am compelled to speak of what I saw
I saw Arachne's daughter at her web
Her web of grey silk spun with pride
With pride that gods assume in work
In work hammered hot from Vulcan's fires
Fires that bubbled in gaseous plasmas
Plasmas our Einsteins understood
Hot winds howl across oceans steaming
Steaming through the cumbersome night
Night that soothes not with dew or stars
Stars that tremble blue in the wind
The wind that shakes the maple leaves
The leaves that throw shadows on the wall
On the wall that vanishes in the light
Correspondence and Permissions: James S. Oppenheim
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