At the Un-National Monument Along the Canadian Border
This is the field where the battle did not happen
Where the unknown soldier did not die
This is the field where grass joined hands
Where no monument stands
And the only heroic thing is the sky

Birds fly here without any sound
Unfolding their wings across the open
No people killed — or were killed — on this ground
Hallowed by neglect and an air so tame
That people celebrate it by forgetting its name