you used to hold me in nuclear arms:
that vein on your cheekbone pulsating ever so slightly
but now the half-life of your chagrin appears
to be much longer than i anticipated.
i can't blame you, entirely. i radiate
do not love me, do not trust me;
but yet you do, you look at me
with your eyes as wet and deep
as heavy water, and i realize the
fusion has occurred already -
the manhattan project begun and
abandoned within the week, and
we are here, buzzing like
fluorescent bulbs, waiting for
one another to settle down
and acknowledge the physics of this.
our bond can't disintegrate, not yet, not within our
lifetimes or five hundred lifetimes.
we are merely isotopes of one another.
we taste the same, we smell the same.
we harness the same reactions.
hold me, i think as you reach toward me.
i clench my jaw and watch our nuclei
with drowsy eyelids. soon your breaths are
steady and slow and you are asleep, and
chernobyl is just a sad dream we shared.
with love and squalor,