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Approaching the Nuclear Facility
November 17, 2008
The vase is thrown
with greyish clay, sculpted
to stack like bracelets
laid to cinch near the middle.
Livestock graze the grass.
Clover sprouts unbothered.
From the hilltop, the bracelets form
the elongated neck of a Ndebele—
foreign, disembodied
in the pasture’s lap,
facing who knows
which direction.
Categories: Journaling the Apocalypse
Sarah J. Sloat
qarrtsiluni 
The contrast of serenity and beauty with the menacing structure is great. Thanks!
Love it, Sarah…Well done!
Oh and great voice too : )
I love how this poem feels like a surprise – you see the surface, and then, beneath, the quiet menace.