Hiroshima
Tapping its teeth on a Somayaki teapot,
"Tea time!" a rat declares.
Nobody steps forward to open the cabinet.
A roach daintily walks over the vines
drawn on the Tatami mat, no one shrieks.
A bat circles around the room.
The house seems to be still filled with the scent
of Shoyeido incense. Weary of its mustiness
inside the house, the wind chimes a gong.
A faucet whispers in the voice of a leaky spigot
and a Sensu fan rattles in another room.
There is no human breath.
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