Stretches by Knute Skinner
I ran cursing and stumbling from the wreck
but as I did so the scene dissolved
and there in a meadow sat God.
“You’re welcome,” God said as I dropped
in the perfect grass
suffused with music and light.
Then sheltered by wings my body curled
and slept at God’s feet.
They couldn’t attend to me at first
having quite enough to do
extracting bones and flesh
from the torn metal.
But after some time – their sirens
still sounding in the garish
blaze of their spinning lights –
they lifted from the pavement me.
Whom they placed with care on a stretcher
as though I were there.
Copyright Knute Skinner 2002