Mutually Assured Destruction

The most profound

Memory of the blast

Is not in its enormity of sound.

Nor is it the yellow-orange heat

From its searing core.

It is, rather, its concussive impact.

An enormous hand

With bolt-like quickness

Dug the heel of its hand

Into my sternum

Within milliseconds.

My breath was exported

Like millions of tiny miners

Exploiting my lungs of their

Precious breath.

Within my skull

The concussion bounced my grey matter

From side to side

Up and down

Until my place in the universe

Was uncertain.

There are social equivalents.

Her goodbye was

Explosive.

My breath

My heart and mind

Were compressed

With unmitigated authority

Of enormous proportions

Until I was devoid of reason

And I was disarmed

Shoved into the soil

Left for dead.

Never to return

She observed

And quantified my destruction

In order to, I suppose

Learn to develop

A better bomb

With which to exact more extensive ruin

To another target on a distant day.

I recovered, slowly.

There are lessons from the blast.

Never disregard shadows.

Do not walk too quickly.

Look around always.

Step lightly, but when committed, step certainly.

Listen carefully to your footsteps

To environmental resonance.

Had I done so

Those misapprehended triggers may have warned me.

I am whole and well

But I live within the moment.

The concussive application

Of even a kiss

Is fraught with the potential

Of mutually assured destruction.