Parable: Heaven

At first it seemed as nice as the real Heaven—

a little eating, a little fucking, a little nap,

then a little eating again, the cycle repeating

over and over. But maybe Forever would be

too much, even a century would be a struggle,

even a year. In time the fun would begin to pale—

a little eating, a little fucking, a little nap. Sure,

the others were terribly nice, if not too quick

in the head at least. Lush fields, oaks in full leaf—

a veritable Garden of Eden. In the nursing home,

when she and Rosie had discussed the option

of Heaven, each swore if she were taken first,

she’d come back to tell the other what it was like.

But Heaven meant being a rabbit in Wisconsin.

Wouldn’t she be ashamed to visit Rosie now?

Even if she hurried back to the nursing home,

she was sure to be caught and wind up in a stew.

Negative thoughts, too many negative thoughts:

It was her duty to focus on the bright side of life.

Who cared if she’d had affairs, lied to her friends,

took money from the till or keyed the car doors

of folks she disliked, wasn’t this human nature?

After all, millions were clearly more sinful than she.

So it stood to reason she’d be forgiven. But when

a hawk snatched up a new friend, she understood

why this spot meant giving birth to a constant

supply of bunnies—a little eating, a little fucking,

a little nap. No wonder her friends were jittery

and their noses twitched; no wonder they were

speedy runners with foxes and coyotes lurking

in the underbrush. Eating, fucking, and napping,

wasn’t it just self-medicating? So as she popped

out litter after litter, she began to ask: When

would it happen to her? When the fox’s teeth

clamped vise-like on her neck or she heard

the owl’s plunging rush of wings, would she

then find herself in the fleecy clouds of Heaven—

the hallelujahs, perpetual singing, the regular sex—

or had she mistaken her location from the start

and she’d come back as a spider, maybe a snake?