Ruth Margolin Silin
The Unfinished Stanza
I dreamed that Heaven opened
up her gates
and beckoned me inside.
“You’re next in line,” the voice declared.
I shook my head.
“I must decline,” I firmly said.
“Goodwill is waiting for delivery
of last year’s clothes—ten pounds make
such a difference in the fit you know and
then again, there is that poem that I am
working on—one more stanza and it is done–
dearest Heaven, I cannot possibly fit you in.”
I wake to sunlight coming through the slats
like lemon slices ready for my tea.
I plan my day around my dream—
but only get as far as bringing jackets
to Goodwill—and somewhere underneath
a pile of unpaid bills lies a poem waiting
for the final stanza.