The following poem appears in our Spring 2016 digital issue. Download now to read the rest of Lee’s poem and the entire issue.
A fireball blazed,
like a small sun,
seven thousand degrees centigrade
Skin, like melting glue,
dripped off the bones of
boys and girls in factories
Small labels
spell out names
telling where they were at 8:15
Her son’s body
clutched a charred lunchbox
burnt into his abdomen
Melted glasses
fused to the ridge
over his eyes
Someone told her
Shin lay crying over and over
for water
Children in uniform
practicing their English
shyly approach
Clipboards in hand,
they ask earnestly
what we think of war
—
LEE WOODMAN has had a distinguished career in the arts and media production and has held senior leadership positions at the Smithsonian Institution. Her radio and film awards include five CINES, two NY International Film Blue Ribbons, and three Gracies from American Women in Radio and Television. Her poems and essays have appeared in Zocalo and Tiferet Journal. Sights and smells of an international childhood, sly humor, and themes of memory and intimacy flavor her poetry.
This is a small representation of the high-quality writings you’ll find in every issue of TIFERET.
We receive no outside funding and rely on digital issues, workshop fees, and donations to publish. If you enjoy our journal’s verbal and visual offerings, we hope you’ll consider supporting us in one of these ways.
Click Here to Purchase Digital Issues
