The Journey
It slams
And impacted instantly
Hoarded like gold
The rib to my side
Aching in its stirrups like Adam
Swallowing hard and dispersing
A fickle attempt to blend into the walls
And edge a conquest, those beautiful red planes
Smashed. A man half ferocious, half dead
His Mussolini smile and little left of his gait
Detonation
Like canaries in deep mines, we slip from our perches
Slowly we breathe, heavy paper bags
Illuminating like so many zeppelins
The thick carbon smell hanging like dust
Free to roam, though essentially just cattle
Inexorable we branch and explode ourselves
Feeling like Eve as the bell chimes
A forceful amputation, it felt like abortion
Settled and quiet and then blown to the stars
Days snapping
Like matches, struck then useless
Emerging half a world away and ages older
Renewed in my old age and wiped
Pure by the smoke and the bombs
Precious as diamonds and pure as an infant.
Copyright © Nathaniel Köhp | Year Posted 2009
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