Tim was long dead
but Opal had the story
in her diary and kept it
in a safe deposit box
all these years
after World War II.
She would die soon
and was afraid the kids
might read it so she asked
a neighbor’s son to drive her
to the bank so she could
read it one more time
before she burned it.
In her diary Opal wrote
that after three months
in his submarine
Tim got shore leave
and called and told her
he’d be home that night.
She asked him what
he’d like for dinner.
Although the war
was over, steak
was still scarce.
Pork and chicken
were possible.
Not to worry, Tim said.
Just pull the blinds
and stand on
the dining room table
and sway while Tim
sat in the captain’s chair.
She could take her time.
No reason now to rush.
The war was over but
he’d probably want
a second helping.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem