The Thirtieth of May Will Always Be Memorial Day to Me

Uncle Billy and his buddy built a business after the war
at the corner of Hamilton and Hook where Dad parked
early in the morning before all the roads were closed.

Below the corner of Hook and Hamilton
Triple-deckers built before the Great War housed
the French, the Italians, the Poles and the Irish
who worked in the factories built after the war
that made These United States The United States.

On the Thirtieth of May, veterans, unions, and
their sodalities marched in Solidarity,
promising a good life to the children
jostling for position at Hamilton and Hook;
neighborhood kids, my band of brothers, and me,

tapping paten-leathers and tossing my head to the music
like Doris Day, until Mother parted the crowd around me
and Dad whispered “She’s gone to comfort a friend.”

Nineteen Fifty-Seven. The Thirtieth of May.
On the corner of Hook and Hamilton.
The day sorrow became Sousa’s counterpoint.

Beth Ramos