Treasure Island

B.B. Loring

(October 24,1995 / Maine, United States)

Are We Splitting The Atom Today, Sir?


I am the white noise
to the record spin,
and you,
my darkly perverse king,
are an atom bomb explosion.

Your irises make up a
super-condensed universe.
when you stand in the sun.
You must know this.
I'm surprised that it
doesn't burn you up
from the inside.

I swear you must give off
some kind of radiation,
because I become sick for days
after you leave.

How I survived being
so near your being
I will never know.
Yet I will spend
my life recovering
from the short time
we were close.

I only endured your presence.
I only bit my tongue.

Submitted: Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Edited: Thursday, January 30, 2014

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