Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2018  Vol. 17 No. 1
an online journal of literature and the arts
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Approaching Afterlife

It was always that afterlife thing
That got in the way of breathing.

Tailspins happen, and then
A truly honest man moves on.

I say this, not to enrage the couple
Just back from worshipping

At St. Ignatius of the Mad,
That little-known home of prayer

Away from people’s real homes.
I am invested in your hope.

It’s just that every night,
When I turn off the TV and

Deprogram from the dilemma
Of satellites, I look out

My window into the darkness,
And there is always some 757

Flying directly over the field
West of here. Everyone up there

Is, no doubt, mumbling
A silent prayer, while dipping

Their swizzle sticks
Casually up against their ears.

The pain is like nothing
They have ever experienced

In their entire flying lives.
I wonder about the afterlife

Right about then; how
It got away from us, and

Just how soon the new routes
Will be reaching our silver phones.  

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