The flags unfurled fly gloriously.
Tipsy barmaids fill the empty glasses
gleaming in the publight, frothy with beer foam
dripping from the fine-ground edges as I drink.
Where is yesterday? As lost as week-old flowers?
And regret that turns out pockets – is he gone as well?

I hear the flags flap grandly.
Cannons boom across the brimming beer.
A girl as young as any takes my arm
lifting me to the resurrection.
Voices mirror sounds
as soft as fish v’s in still water.