- Museum of Natural History #12, Bench Seating at the Atomic Test, 6/4/53
Enter: {Nevada, men in belted slacks, planks of wood} pews erected in the desert, on bare, bare ground {pocked dirt, sooty green scrub brush}, pews built not for them to pray on, not for politely imagining the face of a god—After all they are each of them, standing {the glow on their faces no halo, no aftershock of grace} and their eyes are covered with a veil of glass {through it darkly, binoculars made opaque with} so that viewing both was {and was not} mediated and immediate— Far enough, when the metal casing became {was converted into} cloud, they felt no residual heat— Closer though, despite the {13} miles, than this photo—which can become too easily a stage {on which one sets the props of history} over which it is easy to lay not silence {and then the thunder of sound} but to cast the low notes of an oboe followed at a great distance {what this Climax will come to} with the single sustained plea of the organ. [End Page 74]
Sasha West, who served as managing editor of Gulf Coast for three years, teaches courses in creative writing at Rice University. Her poems have appeared in Ninth Letter, American Letters & Commentary, The Canary, Third Coast, and elsewhere.