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A weekly video reading of poetry by the poet.

Hiroshima
by Linda Opyr

You may wonder if when Little Boy fell
I was the one who watched my mother

sewing a new dress for me, her hand
rising from its last red button
as the deaf earth shook.

Or if when the house fell
I was sheltered into life

born into a burning world
of burning flesh, saved
by a cabinet, its providential toppling.

What, what can I tell you
that you will remember

of that morning in the city
that was never mine.

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