CC BY 2.0

Zero Ground

My part of a sonnet cleave collaboration with Renae Tobias and Isabelle Rathbone Greene.

my ancient handgun sweaty in my grip
alas the trigger gently squeezed fires true
I am the one they call the Vault Dweller
in this harsh wasteland I am left to roam
I once saw pictures of a world still fresh
to hope one day this waste will bloom again
against the rhythmic pulse of rifle fire
with dangled daydreams set on sunlit green
to manifest in radiation storms
the green-skinned mutants keep our hopes at bay
til naught remains but memory and bone
against the cold steel of the Brotherhood
a bright and shining star with darkened core
Did The Children of the Atom speak true?

This piece is part of the Cleave Chain collaboration on Chalkboard.