The prone Diogenes asks Alexander the Great
to move out of his sunlight, his testicles sagging
and visible, stained with last night’s glorious wine drunk.
As a bee dances first before it dies for its queen,
so the nuclear sunset looks glorious before it reaches you.
Alexander laughs and moves to one side.
An irradiated lily puts its blossoms away for a time
when the air is safe to perfume again.