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Atomic Roses
written by Edward Kaspel
Fingers flexed, and eyelash flickered. Someone's wicked joke. Could hear him choking on his laughter as the limb twitched in the smoke. But it was just a spasm jive, because the only sign of life was in the cruel and icy light of Atomic Roses.
Metal petals of a dozen beacons beaming
in the dark - to mark the last
resistance, the final protest (didn't
leave a spark). Even pilgrims kept their
distance, vizors clamped, itching
blisters.
Shrank in lead suits from the
kiss of Atomic Roses.
And a figure cut the wire, paddled barefoot through the field. Kneeled as klaxons barked in anger. Guards appeared at windowsills. Tore their hair in disbelief as a young girl danced beneath, bouqet clutched between her teeth of Atomic Roses.
She laughed as thorns grew from her
finger,
pollen gathered in her hair. And
when she sang the bees responded,
perfume lingered in her hair. Sprinkled
seeds, summoned thunder, drank to rain
and watched in wonder as around her
sprang a hundred Atomic Roses.
And scented parcels rode on breezes. Dropped in deserts, dripped on lawns. Lost in cities, laced the rivers. Brought a new light to the dawn. With it sickness flowed - crept insidious and slow, leaving just the afterglow of Atomic Roses.
Send Comments or Suggestions to atomicroses@hotmail.com
Last Revised: September 4, 1999
