From the back seat where I sit
with my sister, I peer through
the windshield at oncoming headlights,
wondering why my parents are so calm.
How could they not know what I know:
that the Rapture is happening,
is taking place this very moment,
as we head home from my grandparents'
house where I had seen with my own
eyes the headlines of the newspaper
left lying on their dining room table:
"Airplanes Plummet to Earth,
Pilots Disappear"; "Flames Devastate
East Coast"; "Tens of Thousands Reported
Missing." Quotations from the Bible
salted the pages: "Two shall be in the field;
the one shall be taken, the other left."
"There will be famines and pestilence and earthquakes."
How am I to know the "newspaper" was
only a religious tract designed to frighten sinners?
So I sit on the edge of the seat,
my questions stuck in my throat,
terror-paralyzed, and see, off to the left,
the airport tower light sweep
its circular path across the landscape,
surely searching for the missing thousands.
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