Monthly Archives: January 2013

Curie Son

     She never glowed.  I always have to explain this to people.  She worked, she loved, she died.  She was gray the whole time.  But even I checked for luminescence, after we knew about her “radiation poisoning”.  I would be up late at night, as children of doomed mothers often are, and I would walk to their bedroom to peak in.  There was no glow.
     Once I caught them making love, two esteemed scientists struggling with their work.  I could feel the equations of pleasure, pressure, limited time and loss.  She was crying.  She stroked his face.  She wished for uniform flesh instead of his beard.  I remember they were wearing glasses.  I think he worked it right.  She began to moan, but she never glowed.
     She was cold, she was gray but I never held it against her.  She was a scientist, she was as loving a mother as she could be.