Have you ever thought about how
the skin of a plum
looks like the night sky?

Dark plum purple
and white speckles
like shooting stars.

Have you ever thought about how
if the night sky
was the skin of a plum,
then the hand holding the sweet fruit
would be the hand of God?

I wonder what He tastes
when He takes a bite.

The skin of a plum
can look like a bruise
and I wonder if that is because God
squeezed so hard
it turned purple, black, and blue.

What did we do?

If our heavens are an ink stain,
the colors women hide
under makeup and wide-framed sunglasses,
then what does this say about our future–
our life after death?

The skin of a plum is smooth and dimpled,
no peach fuzz
to soften our worries.
It does not hide its truth
under the soft blush of an apricot’s
sunrise skin.
A plum won’t tell you
that every new day can be the start
of a new life.

There were two plums in my fridge
but now there are none–
one was eaten by my roommate,
the other is in the hand of God.

I don’t believe in God,
but I do believe in the night sky
and plums.
So let us all call to worship,
stand if we’re able,
and take a moment of silence
to reminisce
on the skin of a plum,
the night sky.

What does the air feel like on your tongue
before you take a bite?
How many stars will you chew on?
Can you see the moon?

The remains of a plum are in your hands.
Grab the core.
Cradle it gently and slow
or shake it until the remaining juice
flows down your fingertips
and rains onto the Earth below.

You are God.
Your heaven is dictated 
by the actions of your own hands.