Fukushima power

Air-borne and invisible,
sky-choker, cloud-blaster,
his mood unpredictable,
his longevity tried and judged,

he has no measure
of application, but black powers
feeding off his core.
Hydra with many heads

turns hungry and thirsty.
A fall is a rise again,
so his enemies’ skills
play nuclear roulette with the devil,

click the dream for loss,
the ocean-currents, the abyss,
the fiery power grounds
of its souterrain base,

He has given it all
to the people. Hydra will die
when his time is up,
no earlier. The heroes

are flexing their muscles, lifting
their arms in anticipated victory
after each trial and error,
after each new blast of poison

but have to tackle again and again
the sleeping giant’s growing new head,
his indomitable efforts to repulse
their weak and shallow approaches.