Pripyat Playground

by Jeremy Springsteed

A never opening park of culture and rest.
The chamomile paratroopers without laughter
don’t make the trip to the ground.
Radioactive a week before opening.
The workers plastic wrapped inside their homes.

Conflicts that remain unresolved
because no one could bump them out
within an allotted time on the autodrome.
Ice cream unscooped. Trash cans empty.
Children that are now losing a second set of teeth.

Ants in heaps under the Russian swing.
The pendulum motionless on an expired sea.
Heat of the failure digs through the soil.

Summer vacation never comes.
The Geiger counter keeps saying no.

After 31 years the circular overview awoke.
Rotating the way Ferris wheels beg for.
Then returned to its historical position.
Like hands on a dead clock.
Forever waiting for opening day.

Jeremy Springsteed is a barista living in Seattle. He was one of the founders of the Breadline Performance Series and is one of the organizers of the Chain Letter Performance Series. His work has been published in Raven Chronicles, Mantis, Make It True- Poetry From Cascadia, and Pageboy.
Artwork by: Miranda Viskatis

Miranda Viskatis is a Philosophy and Computer Science student in Boston. In addition to photography, she enjoys drawing and painting with watercolor.