David Radavich

RAPTURE

My sister vows
she will be raptured

in the next
year and a half.

Not ravished, mind you—
that happened
many years ago—

but taken up
suddenly body and all

to the heavenly
spheres

like a fleshed
angel with waving arms

and now a smile
on her brow

leaving the old
world with its raw violence
and lattes and liberals
well behind.

Not me.

I plan to stay
on this warm earth

and let my ashes—
when they’re finished
smoldering—

scatter on the soil
to enrich

the little creatures
who come after

who even now
are happy and humming
in their weariless
workdays

and I
blessed to know

such bliss.

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