Mercury Test Site, Las Vegas, l992

                    Rain has blasted the desert into bloom--
                    purple, yellow, red-white-and-blue.
                         Shooting stars fill every crevice.
                         Each step crushes stalks
                         waiting years for rain--
                         any rain.

                    Radioactive dust
                         from Test #973
                         triggers a metal
                         bzz-zzz-zzz.

                         At the cattle gate the guards
                    drag us to the chain-link lockups,
                         yank our plastic handcuffs tighter,
                         refuse our long-stemmed red roses.

                    "Don’t want ‘em. If the bomb’s so bad,
                         how come there’s all them
                    desert flowers?"