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by
Eliot
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September
Poems
Jan 2013
The Prelude
I killed myself and went to Heaven
God held my hand and asked
"Can I get you anything? A cup of tea? Coffee?"
We are breathing.
And she says it with me:
"The meaning of life."
I stand alone
talking to myself
in the stars.
"Ah, yes." Smiles.
"What flavor would you like?"
Written by
September
Victoria, BC
(Victoria, BC)
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,
Nick Durbin
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Michelle Clarkson
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the isolate slow faults
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tread
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