Eighteen young writers from Flanders and the Netherlands have brought nineteenth-century artefacts from the Rijksmuseum to life. They wrote their stories in response to the question: what do you see when you look at these objects through the lens of impending doom? We join Maya Mertens as she looks at a part of a cannon captured at the Battle of Shimonoseki. ‘this thing/ a smiley/ a neutral face/ in silver and bronze.’

Part of a cannon captured at the Battle of Shimonoseki, anonymous, 1865 © Rijksmuseum Collection, Amsterdam

Part of a Cannon (Captured)

‘kanon’ is a Japanese girls’ name
(meaning fragrant sound, sound of a flower)
a cannon a piece of artillery that fires a projectile in a nearly straight line at its target

a cannon roars BOOM!
(whole poems are devoted to it)
and unless well-aimed
it destroys
a little further down
something
or other
depending on your point of view

this thing
a smiley
a neutral face
in silver and bronze
about 3 debit cards wide
and 1 leek high
is heavier than your head
a perfect doorstop
for a horse’s stable
for stubbing your toe

BOOM!
a piece of human plunges in the water
the BOOM! smells of gunpowder

there is always
a 'before' and 'after' the BOOM!
the now is in the lead
floating in the air
nothing has changed yet
though everything is
different forever

as long as the air is charged
all kinds of things are afoot
the kinds of goings-on that
upon impact of the lead
suddenly BOOM!
transform
into the target

a tall tale
that you’re doing it for
dining out on for the rest of your life
as you dip your moustache into a pint
and offhandedly imitate
the rats scurrying into the water

(BANG!

a scrap of rebel hits the deck
yells echo through the hills
settle in the interior)

lead blows your mind
its force
so devastating
inconceivable
the home front
needs a thing
to make it tangible

this thing
elevated to loot
dismantled
appropriated
– what else is new –
from the story
lying here
being
exhibited

I can touch it
without it touching me