Bikini Atoll
Originally published in Puerto Del Sol
Colten Dom
To the atom-sick goat at a crossroads: thank you.
You gave us forty-eight kilograms of shared meanness
and chewed cud; in return,
we will make you into cancer.
Enjoy
a blood transfusion performed by men with masks
and college degrees and
kids of their own.
You were a sailor, for an hour or two, singed beard
and all—now you must go
off to dreams of protonic suns
blessing the tropical beach of your heritage.
Look down—you’re surfing,
your bikini looks lovely;
the ledger will say medical experimentation,
probably.