January 22, 2015


When I go out for the mail,
my new neighbor approaches,
fresh from church,
grasping his Bible tightly,
asking if I know the Lord.

"Not so far as I can tell," I say, 
my mail all bills and come ons,
everyone still wanting money.
"You need to get right with Jesus," 
he says, extending the Bible
with its gold leaf for me to touch,
"before it's too late."

"I'll be sure to look into it,"
I tell him, as I sidestep
my way back to darkness,
my door opened, then
quickly closed against the sun
of judgment, shining down,
on this purest of Sunday mornings.