We are in the process of buying a house that failed its Radon test in a manner my inexperience deems spectacular. Evidently it's a common problem for the area, and mitigating Radon isn't that hard. All I knew about Radon I learned from Nathan TerMolen's poem. His poetry can be terrifying taking the commonest items and making them murderous. It has been at least six years since I heard him read it, and the image of the silent invader destroying a woman's lungs cannot be forgotten. Especially now that it's my lungs and my husband's lungs and my kid's lungs.
God bless Wikipedia. The whole thing becomes a science lesson. Many different government sites explain reassuring practices for abatement and why and how they work. I look at pictures of our current system with my newly educated eyes and scoff that such a system would ever be considered sufficient in the first place. I imagine the amazingly complex structure and rigorous testing schedule we will follow, and I scoff at at Radon. I mock and I laugh.
Until I remember Nathan's poem, then I cover my mouth with both hands.
222Rn
A snake made of absolute
shadow, held together by
glass scales that spar, nod
and wink in light. It chose to
adorn itself with thick mist,
an aura the color of blood
fresh to air. So heavy. Clung
to the ground like a beaten
dog, it slips in sideways
through foundation cracks.
Cobra as vapor — a donned
hood, black tongue tasting air.
A grazing bite starts down-road
through parted lips, starts a mute
riot in lungs, leaves widowers — crumpled
wet paper behind
a quiet
ever-sneaking
tail.
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