Ghost Flowers

An elegy to Nagasaki.
(I wrote this in my Creative Writing class last year)

And in this monochrome tragedy,

lighting up the silent land of the rising sun

in bursts and flashes of red, yellow, and

white,

a child's black body is dipped in color,

and the clock whispers

five.

Flowers fall in a circle around her,

and as night dawns upon Nagasaki,

golden fireflies blink into the broken city,

crying, singing, humming their song

with the weeping cicada -

halos of light around small, sleeping bodies

and carrying them into the

night.

 

The End

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