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PRIVATE DILLY

Private Lewis Dilly
came from Amity,
a town in Pennsylvania
just two hundred miles
from cannon
and from corpses.

He'd mustered into Company D.
His Captain, Silas Parker,
led his farmboys into battle
forking courage to his troops
like food he'd foraged.

At Gettysburg, the private
in his woolen pants and shirt,
without a stripe or bit of gold,
had shouldered rifle
as he marched right to
catastrophe.

Four bullets
claimed his elbow,
scrotum, penis and his thigh.
He took a fortnight
with his manhood lost
until the flesh would die.

One hundred thirty seven years
he lay in hallowed ground
that Lincoln once had rarified-
his name misspelled,
forgotten son,
and not a verse
to sing his stone.

That shattered boy
with nothing
gave a crimson gift-
the bloody fields were sown.
It sings. It paves our dreams
with bits of bone.

*Note: In the National Cememtery, Private Lewis Dilly's stone
in the Pennsylvania section is inscribed 'Pvt. Louis Dille'.


Next: 'Trostle Crop'

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