Incendiary toxic cloud,
From you, I’ve formed a white ellipse—
My pursed, proficient O-ringed lips
Have rendered you a halo. Proud,
Your atoms spin a vortex, crowd
Like maypole dancers plaiting strips.
My exhalation’s set their hips
To circling ‘round a smoky shroud.
Poloidal hydrocarbon ring,
I’d doubtless marvel at your grace
If you’d more magic to adore.
Despite your jig’s beguiling swing,
Your particles just orbit space
Defined by naught but empty core.
If you have any comments on this poem, Mindy Watson would
be pleased to hear from you.