Memorial Day 2012

so many shades
of blue and green
and mist and forgetfulness

so many paths
across the lake
on the seer-sainted water

the white blurs of motorboats,
in a fury of wanting,
rumble across the already streaked surface

the breeze is on me
like the hand of a nursemaid
on a child's feverish forehead

and the stinging flies
hope for moments away from their hell
in the pinpricks of blood
that erupt over their mouths

and my hopes
of a happier Memorial Day spent alone,
decades dead in Syria,
cannot keep down my life,
shifting indiscriminately
underfoot
for future generations
to solemnly
dis(re)member