A cross.
I had it from a friend, a Russian woman,
Who found it in a shop in London.
The double cross of Lorraine,
Made of tin, cleverly worked, lusterless,
Set with six bits of glass
Faceted to shine like emeralds,
Inscribed on the back in block letters, lightly scratched,
Verdun.
Verdun, a word to echo
With the sound of guns,
Continual, near, remote, ominous,
The guns of August.
Inscribed also, lightly, the years.
On the lower foot of the cross,
Nineteen-fourteen, nineteen-fifteen, and above,
...