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Postcard #032
Received: March 11, 2011
Poet: Kathleen Hellen
Empty Hand
They walked to the outskirts.
Everything they had in jellied gasoline
in folds of singed kimonos
In the gray garden
of Tokyo’s napalmed streets
a small hand reaching as if planted
in the ashes. She was 17
“Fire everywhere,”
Etsuko says. “They
were closing on.”
Osaka/Kobe/Imabari
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