Pearl Harbor and Hiroshima
The past is nuclear, exploding in
A present moment boring as a brown
Field waiting for some turnip seeds. The skin
Of now is guiltless, threatless till the frown
Of yesterday’s wide sins rips up the fleece.
The grimace is electric in that time
Of innocence thus unsuspecting. Peace
Evaporates as cities in a crime
Of atom bomb catastrophe. The past
Breaks through. It splits the paper walls of rice
On Monday morning with a heat so vast
Kimonos evanesce. This is the price
The past demands, an August factory hour
Wiped out by history’s mistakes, their power.
~ Phillip Whidden