THE CURATOR: Peer de Silva, head of G-2, Los Alamos

Tigers roam the globe.

Take Hitler’s smarter brother, Joe.

His swagger beggars better men’s

belief, angers the best.

While Nazis swallow countries whole,

he spews chewed pablum glib

whiz kid atom crackers suckle

like a treacly tit. It devours

their minds until they think

clinking cocktail glasses

mimic worker’s hammers

and they wink like bats

at non-aggression pacts.

Their only undivided’s

science; they seek no higher

good, believe God speaks

in cyphers only they can read,

as if they’re wiser than us

grunts. Naive. Or liars.

Oppenheimer’s childlike trust’s

the worst. Milk and honey

from some egghead’s Eden

where bleeding-hearted

fellow travelers think trust

is “only decent.” Blind

faith’s poison, even

smacks of treason. Gimcrack,

geegaw sentiment at best:

cheap beads he’s set

to trade Manhattan for.

Ideology is war.

His “overwhelming

judgment’s” based on hope,

not character. Only dupes

would let him stack his staff

with apparatchiks—

all the Reds and pinkos

of a communist rainbow—

less covenant than

Russian coven. What’s

most vital to these 48

United States? Not

further freedoms

conjured up for comrades

who would feed our secrets

to the Soviets. We need

blunt patriots

with guts and clout

to rule whose voice in future

will or will not count.