Martin Robertson

Now and Then


One hurt by one he loves hurts those that love him,

spreading (circles from stone dropped in water)

pain; and worse (last

worst twist and waste)

transmutation of love to cruelty.

I see

the final bomb fall wide in open ocean

—harmless?  Look—circles of desert spread:

seas and rivers, all water, sap, blood,

all springs of earth and life dried soon,

leaving a dusty cavernous lump gaping

at the sun, at the dead moon, dead as the moon.