HIGH CALLING

 

eve-in-distress

When God called, I answered,

though I didn’t hear him ringing at first.

It sounded like sand in my ears, or pavement,

stone streets gone rogue

wetting my dreams with concrete.

 

But I answered the next day

gave him my back

said, “Strap those wings on tight.

I’m ready to fly.

Eve’s fruit was underrated.

Feed that apple to me twice.”

 

God obliged, said “Your flight to Eden is booked.

Show up a day late, in style.”

Tonight, the moon hangs heavy

a weight around my waist

dragging me down through the slick slog of modern mundanity

 

but when the sun comes up tomorrow

I’ll soar.

By the time the moon opens her one white eye again

I’ll be in another world

licking electric lips

dancing with the light.

 

The night is heavy.

God, wait for me.

I’ll probably be drunk

and unprepared

for an encounter of this magnitude.

If it pleases you, adopt an attitude of compassion.

Laissez-faire seems fair.

I haven’t pedicured my toes in months.

The soles of my shoes are shot.

 

I threw the dice twice, bought a ticket to your promised land.

Take my hand.

I’ll be waiting.

Like the fabled City of God,

I’ll be awake from dawn to dawn.

I’ll host 777 ragers.

I’ll never sleep again.

 

 

 

 

 

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