Unrelentingly,
water pours
for the next 100 years

swollen with radiation.
The fish have not been told.
Nor birds warned.

Clouds lift mist & vapor,
rain it back down
10,000  & more miles away.

The children are swaying
in our arms. They cannot drink
the milk. Mothers help them

put on their masks. Fathers
weep. Whoever remains
will hear the stories

that will grow like cancers.
Whatever remains
will glow in the dark

bone by bone.

© Karen Neuberg

Japan Held Nuclear Data, Leaving Evacuees in Peril
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Karen lives in Brooklyn NY. Her  poetry has appeared in many journals and anthologies. She has always lived near the ocean.

a pink sunset has been observed after
Fukushima tears in my cheeks
I am not sure about this landscape
other color ranges
from violet and gray
I miss the game of the shapes of clouds
this twilight contains the highest level of millisieverts
since the recall
800 mSv per hour
a scan of my abdomen and pelvis
an x-ray of my spine
lies on the terrace table
reads: 15 millisieverts of radiation
Melba made grimaces
and laughs at my concern
there is an echo of iodine, strontium and cesium
if I ever get a hamster I'll name him Strontium
she move the shoulders to look flirty
I smile because for me she looks absolutely beautiful
Even thou this is worse than Chernobyl
even thou I notice a new blister on her neck
we hug and suddenly
I want to know if she is an atheist
I try to pronounce the sentence
nothing comes out of my mouth
amazing sunsets around the world
breath taking sunsets in other parts of the planet
a pink sunset
here in Fukushima
a cry sunset

© Yolanda Arroyo Pizarro

Thyroid radiation found in 45% of children in Japanese province
Radioactive meat circulating on Japanese market
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Yolanda is the author of the novel Caparazones (2010) and has won prizes including National Institute of Puerto Rican Literature Prize in 2008. She is a Director of the Puerto Rican Word Festival.

In orange jumpsuits they climb over the detritus
Of cities and towns shattered by the unforgiving water surge.
They search for survivors, find bodies, hundreds of them.
They’ve run out of body-bags so they wrap them in plastic,
Light incense, say a prayer, move on.
Stunned survivors, homeless, look for their lost generations.
And as if quake and tsunami weren’t enough
Now they have to evacuate the area.
Mortally-damaged Fukushima nuclear plant No. 1
Threatens radioactive contamination.
These polite orderly people queue for iodine tablets,
Queue for food, queue for transport to take them
Away from Fukushima and the lethal emission spreading
Over the Land of the Rising Sun.

© Patricia Mahon

Nuclear crisis: Inside Fukushima's exclusion zone
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Patricia Mahon has been published in Ireland and Spain. She holds an MA in Creative Writing from UCD. She is also a Healing Therapist practicing in Ireland and Spain.