A Navy cook
With mouths,
More mouths to feed
On Tinian island
Western Pacific station,
On break one morning,
He posed for crew pictures
With Fat Man and Little Boy
Imagining the fire tsunami
That would roll over the city
The second, third waves
The open air incinerating
While cleaning up the mess,
Heard the Enola Gay
Rumbling down the runway
Rising like a mother bird
Imagining the Japanese
Looking up at her with hungry eyes
In shock, he said
“We don’t start, we finish things.”
Quietly shipped himself home.
Looked his beauty up, down, up, so
Hungry, Oh, what a mess they made
Mouths, more mouths to feed
Imagining the wild scramble for teeth
Identifiable piles among ash mountains.
They made more, more as in mourning,
Unable to make up for
What broke one morning.
***
Brian Timmerman lives in West Hills, Ca, a suburb of Los Angeles, with his wife and two daughters and coaches a swim team. His work has appeared previously in Blue Earth Review and Welter. Contact Ldbt@aol.com to schedule a swim lesson.
Photo by KDavidClark
