My father enters heaven,
smiling his big smile, the one that could have signaled pain.
Let’s get you hooked up, they say. The place buzzes with sexy uniforms.
Dialysis unit. He reclines in a fluffy chair. It’s pumping beer through his veins.
My mouth is still dry from dying! he says. They pour into him
with a plastic watering can. He grows
to the size of his prime, thickening hair and brightening eyes.
Grouse fly before him, and he shoots. They drop to earth.
He never gets up. Grimaces making his long, sighing, forlorn noise
I can’t understand.