In the Glory of God

There are no spent spiders,

no ants shriveled dead in the corner

waiting on resurrection

The skies of heaven roar

with the sounds

of a million mosquitoes

Coach roaches hold hands

and dance in the cool shade

of eternal afternoon

while house flies wait

in long rows on the table

for the feast of Canaan

where the hand of god

gently places a drop

of honey before each one

in this divine after world

there are no humans

they are all banished

for their insistent

killing of everything

they could find