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If the radiance of a thousand suns
Were to burst at once into the sky,
That would be like the splendor of the Mighty One...
I am become Death,
The shatterer of Worlds.
In war, land is stretched
tightly over the earth.
Zeroes pass like insatiable mosquitoes
above our house.
Air-raid sirens shriek
through red cherry blossoms.
The sun grows dusty, cold. Its only 4
but dad ushers me quickly to sleep.
We kneel, say psalms, while the clock
melts. Time creeps down my wall.
Father bends down, fluffs my pillow,
kisses my forehead.
A thin radiance burns through his eyes,
as he pulls the covers over me.
Now it is rush time, even
the firmament fills with ash.
© 1995 - 2007 All Rights Reserved
I took some liberty with the time depicted in the poem. The "Little Boy" atom bomb actually exploded 562m over Hiroshima at 8:15am 06 AUG 1945, killing 70,000 (which doubled la
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