This Ain’t Your Japanese Grandfather’s
Atomic Bomb

The men stood next to the atomic bomb,
praised Allah, faced Mecca,
a nervous joy spread through them,

their minds raced, their hearts pounded
as if their hearts were pumping sand
from head to toe,

a hot sand like that of hatred,
a hot sand like that of love,
a hot sand like that of revenge.

They could be mistaken
for the Three Wise Men,
they could be mistaken for the Klan,

a nervous joy spreads through them,
crosses the Atlantic and mushrooms
in the metropolis of their minds.