A robin darts past the window.

I am waiting for atomic energy
to crackle to life in the back yard,

to flash white and scatter
papers and spreadsheets around

the room, to erupt and flip
me over in my office chair,

a sudden change of position
for a shifted view of rough spackle,

the ups and downs and jagged
points, the nooks for dust and webs,

the walls and ceiling
like a slow bomb, dropping.

Where is the goddamn sky?
Where are my wings?

A robin dares past the window.