Classified Poem by Robin Bennett

Oh, it happens. I said all
the wrong things to the right
person. Words scattered from
my lips faster than my brain could
save them. Plans of denial,
made my Pandora's box giggle
in pity. All my apologies seemed
water logged and heavy.
Each word met with nuclear distrust.

Now I linger, lost and classified.
Feeling as worthless as a Russian
spy trapped in Area 51. I harbor a
burden as I slowly go insane. I count
rocks in the desert to pass the time,
dreaming of Chernobyl and our
shared destruction.

I love to walk backwards, as if it
could reset time. I'd protect you
from the fallout of my words before
the reactor heated, and the dam
broke.