505


Memorial Day

by Gregory Orr

1
After our march from the Hudson to the top
of Cemetery Hill, we Boy Scouts proudly endured 
the sermons and hot sun while Girl Scouts 
lolled among graves in the maple shade.
When members of the veterans' honor guard
aimed their bone-white rifles skyward and fired,
I glimpsed beneath one metal helmet
the salmon-pink flesh of Mr. Webber's nose,
restored after shrapnel tore it.

2
Friends who sat near me in school died in Asia,
now lie here under new stones that small flags flap
beside.
It's fifth-grade recess: war stories.
Mr. Webber stands before us and plucks
his glass eye from its socket, holds it high
between finger and thumb. The girls giggle 
and scream; the awed boys gape. The fancy pocket watch 
he looted from a shop in Germany
ticks on its chain.


Gregory Orr, "Memorial Day" from The Caged Owl: New and Selected Poems



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