by Ruth Wagner

He Had a Dream

More than forty years ago.
More than forty years ago.
More than forty years ago.
In Memphis, a garbage workers’ strike.
In South Carolina, in Gullah Country, a cabin retreat being built.
Shots ring out.
An unfinished life.
An unfinished cabin.

A Good Ending

The sun has set.
Tall, white-haired, still handsome at ninety,
He stands by the door,
Gazing at the lunar eclipse.
He dines with wife and family
And teasingly flirts with a dark-haired neighbor.
At 9 p.m., he smiles,
And goes to bed.
At 2 a.m., a crash and knock in the dark.
“He’s gone,” she says.
We rush out to look for him.
“No,” she cries. “He’s gone.”
We enter the guest room where he lies quiet.
She, of sixty years with him,
Leans over, kisses hs forehead and says,
“Goodbye darling.”