LUNA JOHNSON

Traveled a far piece to be here.
My name on the fancy granite headstone
You're dedicatin' today --- but I'm not under it.
Ran away at age fifteen "to see the elephant."
Joined the Union forces as a drummer boy.
In Spoon River I was known as the village idiot.
Adults looked away or cussed me,
My employers beat me,
The boys threw stones and the girls ...
In the army my drum controlled thousands of soldiers ---
Led them into desperate battles.
Once, my drum smashed by a shell,
I waived the flag to rally the regiment.
Of an evening, my comrades taught me to read:
Newspapers, dime novels, Harper's and the stories
Of old Macbeth and Jean Valjean.
My fellow veterans become my first and best friends.
I stayed to tend their wounds outside Chattanooga,
And was captured by the Rebs.
Consumption sucked out my life in Andersonville prison.
Reckon I earned a place there,
My grave among the rows of hallowed men.
Now, this here monument ---
To honor my service,
Or to cover your abuse?

©Copyright 2002 by Dennis Maulsby

Author’s Note: Winner of the First Place Adult Division prize in the Oak Hill Poetry Competition 2002, written in the style of Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology.