Evening News By: V.C. McCabe
Gunshot stain
on a tranquil town
Fear locks the doors at night
when once they were left open
to strangers and neighbors alike
to warm by hearth fires
and share a kind meal
Small town gossip
frozen stiff and cold
as the housewife corpse
on a manicured lawn
Blood-soaked flower garden
No one sleeps now
No one smiles now
No children playing
No faithful praying
Time stands still
on a Main Street corner
of a community in shell shock
Caught unprepared
for the grim reality
of human nature.
Arrival Gate By: V.C. McCabe
I.
Eight hours of anticipation crawling through her skin,
she watches the frozen hands of the airport clock;
checking her reflection and her pocket once more for
the crumpled page scrawled with his flight number;
pacing the corridor of strangers departing, awaiting
introduction to the foreign boy fresh from flight.
The plane lands
and the rain
plays
with her
perception of time
The crowd moves slowly across the tarmac
to the haven of fluorescent lights and greetings
II.
Palms slick against her coat, eyes wild,
she searches for him among the travelers.
Stepping past a smile she pretends not
to recognize, her hands tremble with fear .
The hero of her imaginings is made of
stronger material than flesh and blood.
How can he carry all the burden she brings?
He calls her name, a cold grip on her heart.
There is no turning back now.
His mouth will whisper her fate.
vcmccabe.com 