18th Division

Y, of unknown age, died
Thursday on Independence Mall,
crushed by a sign that happened to fall
to the street and hit her right in stride.

She’s survived by X, who’s currently grieving
in Washington Square, his head full of bells
that never stop their chilling knells
for spirits from their bodies leaving.

Beneath a tree that may be a yew,
he wanders in a child-like dream
in which his mouth won’t let him scream
as piles of corpses come into view.

Beneath his feet, for ever more,
excepting if the kingdom come,
lie nameless soldiers, each one from
the Revolutionary War.

An ebon bird alights upon
the stony slab that marks their grave,
and flags from every colony wave
goodbye to each departed son.

Lighted always by a flame,
General Washington scans the rows
of country lads and stout XOs,
in death their standing all the same.

A fresher shadow joins his side
as X feels Y now come to rest;
right in the middle of the quest
to give him liberty she died.

[23:00 / mourning / In Memoriam stanza / arms / XO / Washington Square]