I felt it once




900 words and every photograph preceded by a warning.


You’ve forgotten, I think, but I was guided by your dream.


It has something to do with my father, sure. I understand the desire.

The wavy glass in the door—it all started so long ago.


I understand the willingness. The keys in the ignition. Secret things

that belong to God.


We used to wonder how old we’d be in heaven. I understand the trance.

Recording angels. The ones that read our deeds.