Men on stone blocks
Revealed to us annually
In the midst of traffic
The corner boys of public space
Stepping out of unconscious precincts
Vert-de-gris warriors
Reduced to mere staging posts
In our journey through the here and now
The invisibilty grates for a moment
But how could we ordinarily bear
Such constant presence of loss?
And so we ration our Glorious Dead
One brief life after another.
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