Poem 517

How the Hiroshima bomb changed our definition of ourselves, the black hole at the centre of the galaxy of us …

( I like the particle popping like corn … )

Dramatic Developments

We wheel round that explosion
endlessly
orbiting a gravity so strong
we are splintered and scattered
and unable to pull away

here the russians did it
there the americans
the british
the french
or one lone
engaging madman

but always it was the same morning
as fine and clear as a well
before the stone
before every particle spat
itself inside out
like popped corn

we stood by at our own creation
made up a theory of the universe
that became our theory of ourselves
we wear that flash
on our wrist like a designer watch
we never tire of the hypodermic
that injected space
into a culture
put one clean bullet hole
through a city