The first thing to go was the painting of dogs playing poker. The Designer replaced it with a mural of Goats, playing bridge. Stalin opened in the East with 2 Clubs. Howard Hughes topped that with 2 Diamonds. Doctor Nostradamus bid 2 Hearts. But for this hanging, Christ brought the Spades... & I missed the gambling dogs. They seemed so much more real to me. The walls were painted white. The floor was painted white. The ceiling was painted white. The bar was painted white. The doors were painted white. The tables were painted white. Fifteen of the balls—all numbered—all colored—from the pool table—now topped in white—were removed. He reached into my pockets, & just about took it all. I took the cue before He could, just to have myself a ball. For the bathroom, and the bar-room sink, he simply added water. I had been taking my drinks neat. I had been leaving them that way as well. There are no mirrors. There had been four of them, one for each wall. They have been replaced with maps and dots, indicating “you are here.” Each map is a square. That’s all. I paid for it all with free space. & thanked Him for filling me in. After all, this is the Information Age.

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J.T. Whitehead has published over 350 works in over 125 literary journals, including our very own Propagule, as well as Gargoyle and The New York Quarterly. Whitehead lives in Indianapolis, Indiana with his sons, where he practices law by day and poetry by night."

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