Gettysburg,PA, Summer One Hundred Years After the Fact
alan catlin
Two thousand men lay dead in the mind,
on the lawn, looking down wind toward the
Confederate battery costs a quarter for timed
viewing: the first lines of them are coming at
a run, waving their flags and their arms,
charging uphill into an entrenched company
of blue clad men, firing at will, unaware of
how it will look, one hundred years later
to the tourists who collect post cards and
cheap souveniers of their wasted lives.
unintentionally carving the stone eyes they
use to look inside, into the future, where
the war memorial statues must take up their arms
at night and shoot out stars.