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Without My Electrons


Michael Icaza

Working its way through the pieces
of the shattered air and brick.
Uranium 235, rotting away,
each atom keeps telling themselves,
"Just ten-thousand years"
Until stability.

In a mound of matter
No proton goes long unlonely.
Atomic decay, meet shadow
Ashed shadow, meet decay.
Leading each radioactive whine
to self-pitied silence.

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