Fruit falls: a thud; the sound so loud that all
alone I turn for cause: could something
so small resound so loudly? No great height,
no great weight; the ground reverberates.
They fall: like bowling pins; like dominoes;
like soldiers shot. When atomic bombs reach ground
they show no sound on screen: just the mushroom
eating up the space. The mind fills in
the screams. It’s June, it’s warm, I shake.