William Heyen – Ⅴ

Poetry   

 

 

I think I am not done with them yet,

they are tattoos on me, in me—the bamboo pole,

the boat borrowed from the dead, the park, the river

within which that fish, or turtle, or both of them

are atomic presences, &, of course, the two who,

so far as I know, were never together until

that cataclysm in Hiroshima, or maybe not never,

or are they, now, by way of my translation?

In any case, what possible use do I serve ex-

cept insofar as their mnemonic nature

enables me to keep seeking them? Mrs. Aoyama, Mr. Tanimoto,

I thank you for what you’ve given me—you,

ferryman, from your psychic agony, & you, woman,

who passed without pain or knowledge from Hiroshima

to here. Was/is there anything I could/can do for you?