Dream Fugitive by Kathleen Fellows

I dreamed that I was running,

unusual for my lazy thoughts.

I was escaping an army woman,

usual for my progressive thoughts.

I stumbled into a friend’s house,

a long distant one nestled in England.

I finally got to see his round face

looking cozy in his own quarters.

I spent time talking with him

but knew it wouldn’t last.

I was a fugitive in his country

and his mother offered the honors

to kill me before the military.

She held up a rifle and shot,

reluctant to be the one.

Her face blurred into white and red.

I was relieved and felt promised

that I would not fear again.

I Dreamed That I Was Old by Stanley Kunitz

I dreamed that I was old: in stale declension  

Fallen from my prime, when company

Was mine, cat-nimbleness, and green invention,  

Before time took my leafy hours away.

My wisdom, ripe with body’s ruin, found  

Itself tart recompense for what was lost

In false exchange: since wisdom in the ground  

Has no apocalypse or pentecost.

I wept for my youth, sweet passionate young thought,

And cozy women dead that by my side  

Once lay: I wept with bitter longing, not  

Remembering how in my youth I cried.