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Atomic Roses
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.
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,
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
written by Edward Kaspel
Shrank in lead suits from the
kiss of Atomic Roses.
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.
Last Revised: September 4, 1999
