July and I am seated next to Mr. Melvin,
chaperone from Small World Day Care,
riding an excursion boat to the island fortress
where the Civil War screamed at men
clad in woolen uniforms in July and August,
as sweat-laden mosquito-ridden Gulf breezes
lifted the hairs on their necks and filled their pores
with stagnant dreams of liberation.
Fearing an all-consuming federal government,
they marched from VMI to the coast and found
the reality of war unpleasant and wished to opt for peace
so Mr. Melvin's great-grandfather could walk free.