Western Heaven

In fifty years my body will not be here
I will be in Western Heaven
That place you’ve promised to meet me
And greet me in eternity’s capsule
With every bloom from all corners of earth.

In fifty years I will be in Western Heaven
Encouraged by your spectral embrace
Not breathing still consuming nearly dying again
Your specific face, big hands, deep voice and grin
Vivid perdurable portrait my love.

In fifty years I will be in Western Heaven.
Its grand canyons, endless grassy hills,
Snowy mountains and sandy deserts.
We’ll paint lavender feet, cobalt tails and vermilion lilies,
Sing sonnets, hum melodies and cry verses.

In Western Heaven
I will be you, you will be me,
As notes in our euphoric symphony
of lover’s sounds and angelic spines.

(Recall the promise we made that last night.)