Poem of the Week

Not knowing the difference between Heaven

And Paradise, he called them both Heaven.

So when he shrugged at the thought of a god

Blanched in the lights of implausible heights,

Thumbing the armrests of a throne, that was

Heaven. And when he stared out at the sea,

Feeling familiar to himself at last,

He called that Heaven, too. And nothing changed

About either Paradise or Heaven

For it: Paradise retained its earthen

Glamour; and Heaven, because it can’t stand

For anything on its own, like the color

Of rice or a bomb, was happy to play

Along, was happy just to be happy

For once, and not an excuse for mayhem.