I long for land that’s not (Edit 1.)

[TranquillityBase]

I long for land that’s not

within reach of Putin's missiles. 
Like a bunker against fissile
material in New Zealand,
a modern day Hades
where you breathe the salty air of stalactites. 

A more antiseptic plan
eliminates even prokaryotes. Surprised
into existence with water
who will be when the oceans rise                     "who" throws me off a bit, who is who?
and leap over the ghosts of lords and ladies
promenading on the esplanade.

A new world totters
with strange forms crawling on the seafloor.

Well, I think the old one is worth keeping around for later expansion, but this one's complete in itself and quite an enoyable read.  Your poems always surprise and delight and I like getting new words (fissile, prokaryotes) getting thrown in my way.  Poems should make your life better (says Kurt Vonnegut about art), and yours do.

TqB