by Alan Michael Parker

    When revelation comes， the God of Draperies

    Cannot decide the difference

    Between in and out.

    A patio¹ is out though in a yard， he thinks，

    Nursing his ignorance

    And a mostly gone Tom Collins，

    The sunshine and the cicadas and the loveliness

    Competing for his rage.

    But a car is out？ So what about a swizzle stick？

    Out of the box but in the drink，

    Then out of the drink and in the mouth.

    A little bit in and out， he thinks， the vinyl slats

    Of the ancient chaise lounge

    Stuck to him

    Like bacon to a slice of Wonder Bread.

    And the soul is in？ And heaven is out？

    But when the soul is

    Out， is it then

    In heaven？

    Time for another

    Drink， a tall one， but only half.

    Which is the way it is， he thinks，

    With gods and worshippers and revelation；

    No one is ever sure

    Exactly who

    Has been revealed to whom.

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