The Rising

hatred is a fist
inevitability, lusterless
on the coast my
back
faces the atomic blast

at last
it is over
the relief is
release

my crinkling skin shimmers
like fallout
blown on the waves
my bones a salty
wind, a quantum spray;

leaves through history
sucked back to their trees –

how the horizon drinks in this airy rush
and the angels flock
to revel in the elements

the sun rises
and I am almost glad.