A Vigil at a Missile Silo

Because I did not marry a bomb,
nor impregnate a bomb,
nor watch a bomb swell in the belly
of a bomb,
because I did not study the bomb
in Lamaze classes,
nor watch a bomb crown and deliver and cry,
nor hold the bomb purple and cold and scared
in the bomb’s white light,
nor walk the floor late at night
with the bomb sucking its bottle.

Because I do not have bombs for friends,
nor relatives, nor pets,
nor students, nor habits,
because I do not smoke the bomb
or eat it or drink it,
because I do not want to sleep with a bomb
or hear a bomb snore,
because I do not want to dream bombs
and wake sitting up, my heart a bomb.

Because I do not want bombs for neighbors,
nor have them park their bombs
in my driveway,
nor have them leave their bombs unmowed,
nor allow their bombs to bark all night.
Because I do not want to pick up
their filth,
nor bathe with the bomb
looking in the window,
or calling me on the phone,
or reading the newspaper over my shoulder,
or selling me chances in a raffle.

Because
the world should not be a bomb,
a nation should not be a bomb,
a man should not be a bomb
or have ideas that are bombs.

A bomb should not be a bomb.