Many Hands of Myopia

Let's workshop this poem about an unsettling celebration of scientific achievement amidst the looming consequences of pursuing progress without consideration of the fallout

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Many Hands of Myopia

Champagne bubbles rising
like mushroom pillars 
in a toasted afterglow of detonation,

men of science (massaging
necks in the televised fallout
of their grind) clap and cheer

too loudly (as every eye
darts for pats of reassurance—
for others to share in the load).

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