watching the last veterans visit Normandy)
Always a residue of time: sand
Drifts incorrigibly along the beach
of Atlantic tides we lived. Attempted to resist
No matter how tough the heel's scaled skin, an accidental
Crystal of sharp time
Lodges beneath our defenses, still enters with its
of our moments together, you, and I,
Joined by veteran grass
After spring rains, when the hardy mint invades
Crushed in blood's Bourbon.
Irreverent, the pyramids of evergreens survive.
This bush I planted last year studs my hands
a semicircular garden of unanticipated thorns.
I bought it knowing nothing of nature's barricades
the barricades of memory in the residence of monuments:
Yards of loyalty, these white stones.
It doesn't make any difference
If it is, or was, a cross
Or a lonely star,
a now abstract design.
Laura Manuelidis is a physician/scientist who has
investigated the shape of chromosomes and the causes of dementia. She has
published poetry in various journals, including The Nation, Connecticut
Review, Oxford Poetry, Innisfree Poetry, and Reflections (Yale journal), has been nominated twice for a
Pushcart prize, and has read in European and American universities and other
venues. Her book of poems, Out of Order, is available online; additional links (and readings
with music by P. Jordan) are at: http://info.med.yale.edu/neurosci/faculty/manuelidis_poetry.html.