Paradise Tossed
It seem to me that paradise would soon
Become a glut, perhaps already is
For those who dwell there. It’s as if the noon
Had giant spotlights added and the fizz
Of sixty billion sparklers, too, and then
Someone lets off a hundred trillion A
Bombs all at once. I mean, if you have been
Christ Jesus for . . . a prettly long time, say
A grand gazillion years, surrounded by
Ten thousand times ten thousand shining bright
Archangels, cherubs, seraphim to fly
Around you brilliantly, well then you might,
Just might decide that Lucifer’s willed loss
Was attractive–and abscond to a cross.