Plausible Deniability


One day my daughter
will ask if
          I believe in heaven,
if darkness
calls us
          to lives beyond
this flesh. Lord,
why did you
          save us
from the sea, the rain,
                    but leave us
these borders,
your map of stones
          intact? Scattered
across the hard-
wood floor: her plastic
                    saints and fish.
She’ll want to know
what the skies
          hold, what happens
when the winds
retreat. How can I
tell her what
          I’ve seen? In cold
clear air, our Father
          God like a bird
of prey, circling
                    then gone.