She walks slowly past
the three bronze men
slumped wearily one against the others,
and shuffled haltingly toward
the Wall where, at the sixth panel,
she stooped and placed the small plastic poppy
in the trough that cut along the base of the marble.
Eyes squeezed closed
she reached up and traced
the etched letters
seeking warmth from the cold stone
and felt its coarseness, like
his stubbled cheeks contrasting
against the soft smoothness of his lips.

First Published in The Town Square: A Literary Magazine, January 2024