-afterlife-

I find myself adjudicated, suspended

in a space of time reserved for disposition.

my arms are loosely folded across what's left of my torso;

an index finger taps at my mouth as I consider the Crab’s expanse.

“It’s a real good place.”

So sayeth the impatient voice of Peter.

I’m assuming without commitment that

there's room for expansion and even as it is

it looks big enough for the kids.

back in the world I sailed freely; shipshape and weatherly.

I saw things as clearly as time allowed.

I thought that would be enough —

the one true life, the nucleus from where everything moved outward.

now at the portal to eternity I hesitate before the brilliant

veil of the Crab.

I quip to the great Saint:

"You know, if you squint, it sort-of resembles Nantucket."

"Nantucket?!–––  For chrissake, William!
This isn't paradise”!

so yelleth the impatient voice of Peter.