Neither Now Nor Never
None of my friends want to talk
about heaven. How there is this eternity
and the one for those
more clerical with their faith.
I spend hours each week
saying “I can’t hear you”
into a phone and courting the affections
of neighborhood cats, yet
somehow never find time to burn the thigh
of an ox or a stack of twenties. Thought,
penetrate my cloud of unknowing.
I remain a hungry child
and the idea of a land flowing with milk
and honey makes me excited,
but I do wonder what gets left out –
least favorite songs on favorite albums,
an uncle’s conquered metastasis,
or the girl whose climaxes gave way to panic,
whose sobs awakened the feeling of prayer in me.
May they be there too, O Lord.
With each second passing over me
may that heaven grow and grow.