When I Die and Go to Heaven
by Kenneth Pobo
It’s a blah eternity if the best
I can hope for is the company
of angels—notorious for bad cooking
and wrestling--in gym
Wayne Gochman pinned me
on a gray mat.
The others yelled Kill him! Kill him!
According to Mary Suldana
who blew him behind the bleachers,
he was an angel. I doubt that.
You can put your hand
right through an angel.
Flesh won’t stop you. Maybe
in heaven Bette Davis
regrew her flesh. Smoking
had better be allowed. Garland
will sing “Ol’ Man River.”
Even upper-echelon big mansion
dudes like St. Peter will applaud,
Eternity a cat’s tongue,
no end to its pink.
Gyroscope Review 29
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