The Periodic Table Speaks Out

Two atomic sonnets by Rosebud Ben-Oni

The Periodic Table Speaks Out

 1H :: You’d Be Dead {I’m Simply the Best}
  
 Slander me simple, one-note, elementary. When I’m the sum, square root & fallacy 
 of that cosmos-cooled prelude you’re wrestling. The brxght xyxs of the Boötes 
 Void, the pain & pressure inside starlight, where high & deep I bleed 
 out & release a second coming. & only then do I allow you to be. So, 
 who’s basic, beast? Who shows restraint until acids in your stomach 
 overtake? Who is the nail & the bridge of all the many infinites, 
 your crapshoots & safe keepings? Whose sing can electric a body?
 I am the quench & the dulcet that rots you but not me, the wriggle 
 & rhythm in your DNA. I let you walk across the Bering Strait 
 by pushing apart the very bonds I make. You can’t trap me here, 
 in your thinning atmosphere. I dance out of easy hands & into space, 
 ready to slip back into the bang. Weightless, I bear down & hide my flames. 
  
                                                     You are ashes 
  
               before you even see the blaze. 
 

96Cm :: {You Just Want Attention}

 If I have to sacrifice. If I lantern like anglerfish & trick the darkness
 that you cannot leave alone, in the sweep of your neutron & nuclear 
 fission. If your nature cannot resist nature who rid herself of me,
 killed my plutonuic vibe. If you are why I warp speed & die. If I free 
 silver fox from equinox, & if my hue & dense mean your years stretch 
 a little less. If every time you clench as I liquid your lips with my electro-
 positive spit. If I luminesce to wan your resistance & unbone your body 
 just because it’s sick. If my winter is the rarest youth & I pluck your blood 
 of roses to disgrace. If at the end of this karma & regret I rouge my face. 
 If really, what did you expect. If you could join my measure & spectra 
 on red dust & bloom amid solar flare & low thrust. If, like martian 
 gases, I’d just as soon as boil your blood & toast your bubbly marrow. 
  
             If only to quiet my glow, slow & tame, & if to dull
             the shame I would. I’d scorch the dirt in your name. 

About the Author

More Like This

From Here Your Future Looks Very Small

"The Day is a Manhole" and "Birds in Space," two poems by Hillery Stone

Aug 26 - Hillery Stone

Are Ducks Evolving Backwards?

CJ Hauser on why people believe in pseudoscience and why dogs are good for writing books

Jul 18 - Deirdre Coyle

Time and Gravity Hit the Open Road

"Equations for a Falling Body," a short story by Kimberly Glanzman

Jul 8 - Kimberly Glanzman