This is what you have left of home:
your space suit, your lunch pail,
and the envelope of soil they gave you--
they who watched awelessly
as your booster jets smudged the sky.
One last lift off
before the cities move underground.
Your engines are growing cold.
The space you have left
cannot sustain you in its endless expansion.
and hum the songs your sisters
sang when they braided dandelions in your hair,
their voices as bright as the blast
that locked their shadows on the sidewalk.
Hum and then recite the hot particles,
the poisoner's daughters
who steal marrow from the bone:
strontium, cesium, uranium,
Swallow their names with powdered milk
and let the rocking of your ship lull you
let your days spent at the matinee
and your picnics by the river
guide you toward
an undying new void.
**Edits made for spelling and wordiness...thanks Stacey!!**
Posted for Corey's prompt at real toads. I have been working also on another prompt, and since Corey asked us to leave a poem that is screaming love me, love me....I thought this was appropriate. This one carries alot of my calling cards, it's basically a mixed CD of all my poem fetishes from radiation poisoning to super man mythology. Enjoy and viva la.