Posted in Death

Half-life

In many ways regard for technology
replicates the pattern of human affection
those who in the moment of meeting induce uncertainty
often progress to firm friends
engaging, extroverted debutantes
age to fickle, shallow and irritating.
Antibiotics.
Pesticides.
Genetic manipulation of crops
once toasted as superhero’s
giving the finger to the enemies of humankind
guests of honour anywhere – anytime
now known for their dark sides.
And nuclear power.

School in the 1960’s taught Hiroshima was necessary
Nagasaki perhaps a little hasty
still the victors didn’t start it.
By the mid-70s nuclear was evil and dangerous
millions campaigned for its overthrow.
At university we learned about isotopes
preparation, handling, storage and safety.
The instructor said most of the dangers were exaggerated
there was much greater risk crossing a busy street
or having a heart attack watching football.

The nucleus of his heart split
in his 42nd orbit of the sun
one Saturday afternoon in early winter
refereeing a football match – a spectator of sorts.
When his synapses opened the very last time
permitting the passage of his very last thought
was it of white coated ambivalent students
and a throwaway line
now boomeranging into terminal truth.

For the back story click Backstage
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Author:

Most of my life has been spent on the bench, occasionally called into the game by extravagance or attenuation. Waiting has turned a loner into a recorder - nondescript and inconsequential, more not noticed than overlooked - the non-vantage point of children not yet considered old enough to understand. Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry is a lifetime of picking anecdotes up and not throwing them away. Stories collected like odds and ends placed in a box in the basement, the garage, the garden shed - uncertain as to what their use might be but knowing that one day there might be one.