Truk Lagoon Poem by James Andrews

A camera panning
Reveals the wrecks of ships,
The fleets of Japanese
Twisted in oblivion.

In the cavern of a sunken vessel
A diver's light
Picks out the cabin of an officer.
Encrusted uniform,
A phone that never rang again,
A pair of shoes
Now home to small, dark creatures,
Tea set frozen in an uncompleted ceremony.

In gun barrels thrust up
Underneath the waves
I feel the last gasp of the emperor.

I feel your small, bare hand
In mine.