Hiroshima, by Emilie Lauren Jones

I am not a silent poet

Man-made star’s last breath:

inhales birds, men, buildings,

exhales chaos.

Fingers cling to skin,

metallic blood melts from gaps

– misshapen humans.

Last acts blacken floors,

skipping children stopped mid-jump.

We are all shadows.

Emilie Lauren Jones:

Most recently published in Here Comes Everyone Magazine, Emilie runs regular poetry workshops in Coventry and has just completed an MA in Creative Writing at The University of Birmingham. Twitter: @EmilieLaurenxxx

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