Forget the lovers’ woe, images
of unattainable love; forget the night,
the lonely moon too,
the cloaked by fog starred sky—
All romantic spent stories
of a You and an I.
See, you’re my Tunguska affair;
puny asteroid blasting bright
before Lover Earth’s embrace.
You left my naked trees inclined
from the epicentre of your untouch,
no grass.
Deep in the marshes of memory,
your split properties even now
swamp my roots, nurture new
vibrant forms of stubborn life
after the catastrophe named you,
my dear seven megatons of TNT.
