The Ancient Modern

Subway /  Joshua Alan Sturgill

I spend a lot of time
down here on the subway.

To work and back.
To movies and bars. And once

I ran into God. This happened
before I really knew my way around.

I had a lot of questions
(obviously) but what I really needed

          was direction.
We discussed possibilities, but

in the end, He pointed me toward Eden
and hinted that it wasn’t so far, or

(He said) why was there any enjoyment
in life at all? Microbrews and sex and

thunderstorms are little intimations
           of Paradise.

Now, what’s best for you (He said)
is to marry Eve. She’s My glory

personified, drawn out, made
tactual. Then, He suggested we throw

           a dinner party
and invite our best friends,

who are also our children.
You’ll continually astound each other;

You won’t need television. Everywhere
is the kitchen. Prayer and love (He said)

don’t have to be separate errands.
Morning light through every window. I

sometimes think about that advice
God once gave me, a while ago.

I think about it while the subway
clatters. Lights flutter. To work and back.

All poetry and supplementary material: copyright 2020 by Joshua Alan Sturgill. All rights reserved.

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