(After Carl Sandberg, John McCrae
and Wilfred Owen )

…big shouldered city of men, failing
hands barked stigmata
in the work
                  all they know
furrows the globe, their arms span
a molten century
                  crucible eyes
uniform brown
ennobled by the stray
button--surprising
                  but fitting
the red oh like a mouth
like a tongue
                  the earth
flies to greet them all, worms sing
all their hymns in accord now,
echoes in stone row on wakeful
row, the century's
                  tide of poppies
flows among them, rushes bending
to nourish
                  the helmet
turned up, a hungry vagrant
bowl poised
                  under a testicle cloud…