through the entrance early tourists flock
wait for the ticking of the empty clock
adults stare and children play
under the shadow of enola gay


and as the sparrows and the eagles call
the crow's the loudest of them all
listen to the birds that pray
under the shadow of enola gay


the weather turns us from the park
surrendering our bodies to the dark
too much and nothing left to say
under the shadow of enola gay


Hiroshima, December 1994

Poetry Magazine