I will only know the truth
\nthe first time.
\nA moment later
\nthe truth is gone
\nand I will become fiction.
\nExcept,
\nwhen I feel the wetness
\nof a storm.
\nThere is so much rain in me
\nat the farthest space.<\/p>\n
God will ask
\nwhat do you have
\nin that little bag of yours?
\nI will open it
\nand God will see Mary\u2019s face,
\nsmiling when I bring her coffee.
\nA double take at April\u2019s radiance.
\nA whole hologram of sky
\nwhen I woke,
\nin an atom of time,
\nlife\u2019s weather report.<\/p>\n
May I? asks God.
\nAnd tipping the bag
\nlike planets,
\nout fall birthdays,
\nsand boxes,
\nmy mother holding me,
\nthe smell of crayons,
\nthe eternal dying.
\nHeadstones,
\nand digging a grave
\nfor my dog in bitter cold,
\nin a tee shirt,
\nand tears freezing my cheeks.<\/p>\n
God\u2019s eyes full of color,
\nflashes of lightning,
\nthe pile of worlds
\nnever larger than my soul,
\nand my father
\nplaying his guitar,
\nlooking into me as he plays.
\nThe truth between me and Providence.
\nEverything between joy
\nand illness.
\nAll the words I\u2019ve ever uttered
\nand my heart held in hands
\nthat belong to me,
\nand something else.
\nFact and fiction.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I will only know the truth the first time. A moment later the truth is gone and I will become fiction. Except, when I feel…<\/p>\n