The dogs of Hiroshima
barked until the very end.
One slept on the ground, in the shade.
Two pups played and chewed on each other.
One dog came when it was called.
Another sat by the side of her master.
When the great white light came
they were sent to the realm of nothingness,
the realm of atoms ripped apart,
the realm of torrential wind
and flame as hot as had ever been on earth,
even when Moses faced the burning bush.
The dogs of Hiroshima,
until the very moment of the light,
moved as dogs move, and sighed as dogs sigh.
They took upon themselves no cause,
and judged not a living soul,
but they were judged in their innocence,
and the dogs of Hiroshima were no more.