All the way to heaven

I shudder to the rhythm of the train, avoiding the skin of your palms as you extend your hand. Then I slip one step at a time, past the bedroom, the front door, careening along the railway tracks squealing with brakes, blinking with sharp lights all the way to heaven.



Come in through the double-doors.

A porch full of moonlight, two fingers
of Jack Daniel’s and an empty chair
awaits you.

You can say a prayer before
we negotiate over chemo
hours. Then you promise

to fit my eulogy in volume 5, Thursday.


Above 42 words inspired by Yeah Write #181.