Poetry — June 27, 2011 14:11 — 2 Comments

Maiden – Marc J. Frazier

Many young women, disfigured by the bomb, were brought here for surgeries financed by wealthy American philanthropists.


It is not easy to become a lie.

A scalpel furrows my face. Again
and again doctors hold up mirrors.
For years I am always healing. Finally,

I am something they can look at.


In August I watch lanterns on the river
where the burning leapt.

Water did not kill that fire.

It is light not dark I fear.


Forty years later
cameras flash to show the world
these lucky hibakusha.

I am exposed.

If I could decide
again, I would not become this.


Marc J. Frazier has been widely published in journals including The Spoon River Poetry Review, ACM, Cumberland Poetry Review, Slant, Plainsongs, Poet Lore, Rhino, English Journal, Eclipse, and The Broome Review. He is the recipient of an Illinois Arts Council Award for poetry, has had several residencies at the Ragdale Foundation in Lake Forest, Illinois, and has done numerous readings in the Chicago area. His book manuscript Steep Coast is in search of a home.


  1. Scott says:


  2. Christine says:

    Just want to say, I did not read the tag line at the front and completely got what the poem was about…

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What am I?

Bioluminescent eye
That sees by the shine
Of its own light. Lies

Blind me. I am the seventh human sense
And my stepchild,

Scientists can't find me.

Januswise I make us men;
Was my image then—

Remind me:

The awful fall up off all fours
From the forest
To the hours…

Tick, Tock: Divine me.

-- Richard Kenney