Ryan Tullis


Shadows on the Walls of Hiroshima




How bored she must have been, impatiently
waiting on the steps of an unopened bank, seconds
counting down slowly on an unseen watch.


She sat with her legs up,
hands resting on her knees,
patting them like drums,
needing to get back to her chores:


The washing of steps,
the sweeping of floors,
the recipe of turnips and fish.


A plane went by overhead,
loud, something small departing
below its silhouette.


She shaded her eyes to see,
sweat rolling onto her hand,
a glare of a sun in her eyes,
the weather of the day


unusually warm.