1955 (12 Miles from Ground Zero)
By Lee Rossi
We didn’t have much education,
eight grades for mom and dad,
even fewer for me, but we read
all the time, the daily Globe,
Time and U.S. News, every week
another article on the nuclear threat.
With Russia only thirty minutes
over the horizon, we’d have almost
no warning before fifty megatons
vaporized downtown,
and with downtown only 12 miles
away, who knew if we’d be vapor
too. I knew, of course, having studied
the diagrams, downtown the center
of the target, concentric rings spread-
ing out into the city and suburbs,
the houses, parks, grass and trees,
the animals and pets, the schools
filled with thoughtful children.
We’d survive, I decided, radio-
active perhaps, glowing with
a plutonium tan, but only if the Russians
could hit what they were aiming at.
In the meantime, I checked our fruit cellar,
the jars of pickles and peach preserves,
rank on rank, what we had to eat
and drink after the firestorm.
Lee Rossi is a winner of the Jack Grapes Poetry Prize and the Steve Kowit Prize. His latest book is Darwin’s Garden. He is a member of the Northern California Book Reviewers and a Contributing Editor to Poetry Flash and Pedestal.
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