Missing

I lost you on the bus when
I turned my face
to the dreamy guy
with wavy locks and pale grey eyes
as silver as the
americium-241
which I left in the bag
I forgot.

I lost you on the street when
my thoughts turned to
the cobalt-60 coloured sky
and I tried to recall
that unsealed source of
iodine-131. It  might seem slack but
my head was full of
caesium-137.

I lost you in the park when
my mind was rammed
with handsome men in hazardous
suits, brows furrowed with deep concerns.
Next time I won’t keep my
ytterbium-169
in my lap, on the bench
as I dream of men

with eyes as bold as the
thyroid gland which
absorbed the waste
I lost that day
when I turned my head and
dropped my ball of
depleted
uranium.

© Carolyn Cornthwaite

Radioactive materials lost in more than 30 incidents over past decade

Carolyn writes poetry, flash fiction, short stories and has almost completed the first draft of a novel. She dreams of Booker prizes and a life in France and blogs at wimpywriter.com

Perpetuity

Unrelentingly,
water pours
for the next 100 years

swollen with radiation.
The fish have not been told.
Nor birds warned.

Clouds lift mist & vapor,
rain it back down
10,000  & more miles away.

The children are swaying
in our arms. They cannot drink
the milk. Mothers help them

put on their masks. Fathers
weep. Whoever remains
will hear the stories

that will grow like cancers.
Whatever remains
will glow in the dark

bone by bone.

© Karen Neuberg

Japan Held Nuclear Data, Leaving Evacuees in Peril
-------------------------------------------------
Karen lives in Brooklyn NY. Her  poetry has appeared in many journals and anthologies. She has always lived near the ocean.