Hiroshima’s Dawning

Steve Pearson Poetry

the people didn’t see the dawning
of Hiroshima’s livid morning
history’s seething fist
every person kissed
burned to the black
stepped over
by the dying
Enola Gay flying
home
Little Boy gone
in poisonous plume
deadly shroom
people just, gone
on and on and on
never really through
their suffering will continue
as memory inexorably grows longer

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