This is what a nuclear weapon does to flesh

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Cast our Disney-eyed wonderment away to truth
for this is what a nuclear weapon will do to flesh.
Give me a photograph of your lover, thank you for the gift, I shall begin.

I’ll save your lover from the fire by choosing an Iranian new-born,
already we feel relieved and consider escaping
this is your last chance; will you save yourself?

The insignificant Iranian baby was born near perfect –
apart from a birthmark which shall offend a star
but perfect he is and made from love and human oils.

The baby will split like atoms seen only by puking Gods.
Give me photograph of that apple you are peeling
that baby is that apple now boil it to 5000 degrees for seconds.

We are not done! The baby cannot crawl from flames.
Am I being unreasonable? Shall l turn the fire down lower?
Butane-blue is not a colour to attract crowds at the Atomic Motel.

Check in to the Atomic Motel and let us see the deaths,
how the colour of hair paints into inferno reds and browns.
Look, I just trod into a chandelier of a ribcage, its red lamps.

Shall we move on to other examples or leave it at infanticide?
Genocide? Humanicide? God will decide, or maybe not.
It is time for me to go I outstayed my welcome at the title.

Have you gone? Go away, I am fanning atoms of babes into jars.
I shall present them to God and tell her I was once innocent,
Hell is nothing to fear, we hold it in our very hands willingly.

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