to those awaiting the moment
when they will in rapture
It has come and gone
decades ago in a flurry
of Buddhist monks determined
to leave a Lutheran church basement
in Texas cleaner than they found it, cleaner
than it had ever been.
I invoked Rapture (which was in the air
there) as easier for my daughter to take in
than the cold hard fact
that good people doing good things
disposed of the old shirt
she called munga
and clung to almost all the time.
The only thing raptured
was a security blanket
left for a moment
in a safe place with a leap of faith.
Your Lexus may spin driverless out of control
one day when you disappear
with no explanation,
but god came and came and came
and found nothing worth carrying away
but a rag that could remind him of a time
he dreamed without thinking things
could go so wrong.