I'll say one thing for my forbears:
they always knew their destinations.
Take Great Aunt Min now - she
who thrilled us with her parakeet
a day or two ago. She underwent
a minor medical procedure -
well, that's what we would say today.
Quite different then, of course.
She woke up on a marble slab, sure as hell
that she had gone to heaven:
so many beings floating round
robed head to toe in white, no less,
their faces gauzy, featureless. Angels,
sure as hell fire - as she aptly said.
I asked - got withering looks from mum and dad -
about the pure white wellies in her tale.
Standard issue for an angel, were they?
Not a word came in reply. She had been
to heaven - briefly - and would not
relinquish all that kudos lightly.
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