William Heyen – III
Candles
Mrs. Aoyama & Mr. Tanimoto of Hiroshima,
my old friends for weeks now, they
of the flash & firestorm, the one instantly translated,
the other ferrying himself & traumatized others
across the water of time into my own time—
I begin already to miss them, do I
I presume to say that she was a good woman, he
a man who could be trusted to spend his last strength
poling us to where trees & lawn & gardens receive
ash & black rain but, nevertheless, survive—
root hairs strengthen & take deeper hold when wind
or atomic shock, from bearable distance,
trembles them. I’ve not seen a photo of either one,
if a photo exists, but have their x-rays
in me. These two in their lives in that city did
not know one another, but do know one another now
by way of such mnemonics as we might hear
as we, dare I say it, sing them? There she is, Mrs. Aoyama,
doing what she’s doing when she disappears
without knowledge of cause & effect. There he is,
Mr. Tanimoto who at first thinks
an earthquake has shuddered Hiroshima & caused fires,
but then realizes God is not to blame
for this which has happened. Leave me, stay with me,
intercede no never not for me, for us,
you two & the others who in their instantaneous disappearance
or prolonged agonies encandle us.
We do confess that history x-rays us as we
repeat to ourselves, as we ready ourselves
for our own sleep among its shadows, Aoyama, Tanimoto.
Mrs. Aoyama & Mr. Tanimoto of Hiroshima,
my old friends for weeks now, they
of the flash & firestorm, the one instantly translated,
the other ferrying himself & traumatized others
across the water of time into my own time—
I begin already to miss them, do I
I presume to say that she was a good woman, he
a man who could be trusted to spend his last strength
poling us to where trees & lawn & gardens receive
ash & black rain but, nevertheless, survive—
root hairs strengthen & take deeper hold when wind
or atomic shock, from bearable distance,
trembles them. I’ve not seen a photo of either one,
if a photo exists, but have their x-rays
in me. These two in their lives in that city did
not know one another, but do know one another now
by way of such mnemonics as we might hear
as we, dare I say it, sing them? There she is, Mrs. Aoyama,
doing what she’s doing when she disappears
without knowledge of cause & effect. There he is,
Mr. Tanimoto who at first thinks
an earthquake has shuddered Hiroshima & caused fires,
but then realizes God is not to blame
for this which has happened. Leave me, stay with me,
intercede no never not for me, for us,
you two & the others who in their instantaneous disappearance
or prolonged agonies encandle us.
We do confess that history x-rays us as we
repeat to ourselves, as we ready ourselves
for our own sleep among its shadows, Aoyama, Tanimoto.