There’s a molecule I just inhaled
that’s known a bit of nastiness.
Sighed by a dying Jesus.
Swept around the planet
every two weeks since.
It’s swirled in the eddies of a bomb casing —
barreling toward annihilation.
It’s nourished dictators,
and drowned martyrs.
Landing on a blade of grass,
outside a storehouse of inhumanity,
biding it’s time to atrocity.
It knows no regret,
nor the error of its ways.
Riding my hemoglobin will not redeem it,
of that I can be certain.