Little Boy

Little Boy


My first memory of a bird
was the time a stork lost its way
and landed atop the cherry blossom tree
down the road from our pagoda
just past the garden and the bend in the river

I was seven
a schoolboy dressed in white and blue
playing in the schoolyard with other boys and girls

I dreamed it was high in the Sunday morning sky
It came down over our homes
a big black bird
like a B-29 bomber
Its shadow covered the ground
Its claws hung down like bombs

And ripped through the house tops
tearing off roofs
shattering windows
blowing down walls
It dropped the sun on us
our skin ran like water