threnody for the victims of hiroshima

There is a certain peace
in this threnody;
a blanket covers the day’s
losses, the strings
can’t decide which way
they should go,
so they just go.

Sweat stains fine linen.
Eyes remain closed.
Everything is blank.

The conductor waves his arm,
a final blow opens
the eyes. They remain open.
They are taped open.

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