Tuesday, December 22, 2015

They and Their Song Shape and Sleep Manhattan

During the revolution, iron
chains ate fighter
ship hulls beneath
my rippling reflection.
British and American
blood gurgled the cold dark.

The Hudson's nervy
waves erode Manhattan,

but curving around
the cloisters, slowly
cutting stone, the white-
capped water continuously salutes
West Point soldiers. Now,

if you're sitting still, you'll
hear kind calm lullabies
roiling through sea
air. Violent deaths cannot
muffle the songs of valiant men,
even under watery graves.

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