Rapture
I want to be awake
when the world ends.
I want to be my friend
who rose to an empty
house, even his grandmother
& her worn cross gone
& thought it was the rapture,
that he hadn't crossed over.
Let me rip my shirt
as he did & tear into the street
hollering. Let me hear
only my blood beat this morning
in the rain before the dawn--
no one on the line.
Later, when they return,
let those I love who left
have only gone to the store,
running errands, this errant
unebbing life. After,
let what I've torn--
the myself I mourn--
be mended & start
over, like a scar,
or star.
--Kevin Young
How pretty.
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