On the 50th anniversary of the first explosion of the atomic bomb few visitors show up in the desert except some nuns with protest signs;
in Washington D.C. someone throws symbolic blood on the parts of the Enola Gay the government dares to show;
on the 50th anniversary of the A-bomb, in Ireland, we drive into the Nuclear Free Zone of Cork City;
and France sails into the South Pacific to do it again and Greenpeace says "No!" for all of us;
while in Ireland not one bottle of Beaujolais is sold on Bastille Day.
Back in Albany whole neighborhoods begin to glow against their wills
History turns inside out like the hole ripped in the wind over Japan in August --
Fisherman cast everyday nets into the South Pacific because
the French with nothing to test never left Paris
the entire planet has always been a nuclear free zone
the Smithsonian hosts a flower exhibit and no one shows up
in New Mexico the desert is as quiet and empty as it has always been, there is no marker no plaque
and it is darker, darker in the starlight, than it could ever be under any cloud.