This Must Be Heaven

Death I understand: my flesh rejoins the universe

like sea water escaping a cracked amphora.

The way, they say, I inhale molecules breathed out

by Jesus. Another kind of resurrection.

But how did I get here in the first place?

A little wanderer, in what green room was I waiting to come on stage? In what bardo antechamber awaiting summons, like a quantum particle kept in suspense (there) (not there)? Or, washing ashore from fathomless depths, laughing and crying with my first breath.

And where did these luscious figs come from?