the sea is full tonight,
running currents from asia —
round and serene — it flows
from japan — fukushima,
where death grows in water
so green and still —
deep wells with melting rods, containers,
melting boy and girl —
isotopes eating the land.
a bird, a land bird,
floats upon strontium;
spirit on the sea. and, i see outside, the vivid sunset
reminds me of melting worlds now, fire and death;
and, i cannot shake the fear that my bones
are filling with poison: when i love in you,
i am giving you cesium. i cannot love you anymore;
i cannot kill.
i want to sing a floating song in the wind,
but, the waves and clouds spiral into cesium;
children will die,
birds will die. i want to sing a song
that shouts out happiness — but, the liquid
caress of radioactive water bathes hilo,
covers the beach at waikiki —
the sands, the trees; the people. children
will play, mothers will nurse, people will vote, happy
to pick their team for the series.
leaders of the world, politicians — labor, communist,
fascist, republican realists, democrat souls: vanity boys
and girls. they didn’t tell you? did you ask?
i want to sing a song where i’m not afraid,
afraid to look outside, green planet…
to walk downtown and not look down,
to not have to see the pain,
they know they’re dying — the food, the air and water.
because, the sky would be blue;
birds from far away…