Maxwell Minckler

Rapture

When the Great Thunder Eagle alighted in the backyard
in a blaze of glory and offered absolute absolution
for humanity's sins and a one way ride to the edge of infinity
for all willing souls, no one noticed. So he nailed a note
to the backdoor: "Message left under the rock, will attempt
redelivery" before flying off for about 2000 years,
which didn't work too well. But then when you told me

this morning some huge white bird had lifted our miniature poodle
into the heavens, before dropping him, unharmed
in the neighbors’ backyard, upon which he immediately
and vigorously shagged the unspayed golden retriever dozing there,
who herself had secretly prayed for years for just such a miracle,
raised as she'd been from a pup on 24/7 EastEnders reruns,
I started to believe, but just a little.

Maxwell Minckler's poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in The Atlanta Review, Okay Donkey, Ambit, Krax, Firestack, and others. He holds an MA from Durham University UK, won Lafayette College's MacKnight Black Poetry Prize, and placed second in the New Writers UK poetry contest. Originally from Hawaii, Max lives and writes around England. Connect with him online @maxminckler.

Maxwell gave us the following commentary on his poem:

My neighbor dropped by one day convinced that the red kite population making a "miraculous" recovery across England would soon carnivorate her little terrier back up into the circle of life. Now I struggle with greater powers, and true miracles I suspect are private affairs, but I have a honeyed faith in the secret hearts of others.  What could make me believe in something more?  Widely distributed true love might do it, thunderbolted down onto the deserving on a day like any other (Golden Retrievers are deserving, by default).  This poem fell out of a sky like that.  Maybe belief does too.