in the desert a man walks
there are flowers born out of rock
some are orange or flamed
like flinty red ochre handprints on caves
another flower dawns
white electric
he has never seen such a flower
a sight not heretofore known to exist
like some ghost from the dreamtime
he cannot explain it
Maralinga AD 1957
Flynnpoetry 
Evocative imagery from a naive existential perspective – and prior to a phase transformation to a plasmatic quark soup — and union!
Sent from my iPad
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An interesting interview on the ABC with an elder who was witness to the catastrophe sparked the poem.
God only know what was going through his mind in this ultimate conflict of cultures, The British not so cultured…
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