Haiku’s for Hiroshima (II) DEAD END PASSAGES, by Elaine Christie

I am not a silent poet

Mother in mid-run
with child, misshapen soya beans
can’t be separated.

Hair evaporated, skull-
cap pared to carnassial
cordite twisted body.

Frost bitten in maternal
threads, last breath spent trying
to reach their babies.

The eerie thuds at night
of a cathedral falling
animals in pain.

Flies in an ashwood
Stench-land, God has left the build-
ing, nothing moved.

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