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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 9, Number 1, March 2015

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Mike Montreuil & Marjorie A. Buettner
Ottawa, Ontario, Canada & Chicago City, Minnesota, USA


Remembrance Day

It's the end of July and the reality of summer halfway towards the finishing line has struck me. I begin to think of the first snow that will arrive after Remembrance Day, after we have paid homage to those who died and those who survived Passchendaele, the Somme or Ypres.

I look back at the times we shared this past month and ahead to those that will pass as we edge towards Christmas. But these thoughts are brief, as I contemplate my next cannonball dive into the cool water of a dog-day afternoon.

a blink of lights
in the ice-fishing huts
winter stars
I count the years
we might have left

Remembering you, I touch the dog tags resting in my jewelry box. How long it has been since you were alive and breathing, since you played your music as if it were the language of your soul. I delve into the memory of you like a fish in deep waters; I breathe your memory, sinking down beyond what is known, far, far from the light of day.

barely remembered
at 90 years old
he forces himself
up the stairs
to touch the names


Editor's Note: "barely remembered" first appeared in Ribbons 8.3, Winter 2012

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