Oppenheimer
the Pangea inside me crackles and spits it’s not surprising that I’d end up this way
gravity pushing in and pressure pushing out caught in an endless tug of war with my cells
eyes flickering between green and brown easily swayed by the color of a shirt or the angle of the sun
my mom says the dichotomy doesn’t define me that maternal spiritualism and paternal capitalism
do not contain opposing definitions but its more than just the frayed ends of the divorce
the noises all become too loud when you are always defined as separate
as the other parent, as the other friend, as the other side northern and southern Italy declare war within me
insult the other over the bargaining table of my heart and seconds turn into light years
swords and javelins become guns and heavy tanks and iron weeps something congealed and red
and I think I understand now, why Van Gogh cut off his ear why Oppenheimer slashed into the cores of atoms
war is etched into the spiral coils of my DNA chaos tingling at my fingertips
and the only way to be heard over the subversive cold war between the two is to shout even louder
contentment cannot be found in mutually assured destruction or in billowing white flags that make blood look even redder
stalemates leave a different kind of devastation in their wake the type that has every atom in my body vibrating
a battlefield amputation to save the larger body but really every fight or attack or skirmish looks the same
at the end of it all comes the persistent radiation the flooded trenches and pocked earth and mass graves
and undetonated bombshells future generations will fearfully tip toe around on their way to school or work or….
a battlefield of self-destruction held in potential energy I know they hate each other more than they hate me
but for them an outright declaration is another kind of failure my atomic bonds have already begun to fracture
I’m simply an easier target
