Jerry Pike - Tea Lessons

In July they dropped a dummy fat man,
to squash me, but I ran.
The tea lessons stopped,
each cup back inside the pot.
This bridge creaks, virus and tnt,
levelling its road, and still I wait,
for Bocks car, and its drive by.
Fires rage, trembling our school,
Smokey storms clogging the air,
thinning our breath.
I heard Big Stink flies low,
picking up negatives and mapping my home.
My sweet Okura.
He’ll radio back, Silver plate, Silver plate,
and they’ll dropp the world for what he wants,
no request denied this saviour.
Licensed to kill.
But my house, my family, please.
This August Okura’s first fire bombs
smoked and saved me.
You hawked your fortress,
selling death from its conscience,
hovering an hour in the cloud maze,
three lost strikes and you’re out, and off,
the circle R daubed on your tail,
in bomb squadron, gasoline pride.
I wondered how we avoided,
those three hundred daily raiders,
we were special, spared, chosen ones.
Our Shinto sky, a mass of blotting smoke,
so you moved on, and instead,
took my brothers in Nagasaki.

Jerry Pike

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tea-lessons/