Godfather

He’ll part this world with feathers on his feet, the ton of five & dime cement no longer heavy, his battered brow resembling morning wheat as sunup blesses rusty Dodge and Chevy. And hipsters coming out saloon and church will mark a glimmer of unworldly light when for a second he climbs walls to perch by Jesus, having left for good the night. And yet, his debt now paid in full, he’ll bask in glory on the surface of the sun as bubbles rise and peel away his mask, and he himself, no longer on the run, embraces peace, peace that will greet us all (the twin of silence in that timeless land) , since feathers and cement won’t break our fall and faith’s too airy to provide a hand.