Your vile deeds did not stop my heart

In the Neapolitan café
the first time I died
there was nothing –

no tunnel
no doors
no blinding light beyond

no angelic chorus
no harps
no fluffy clouds

no saints
no keys
no book for my reckoning

no nothing.
I’d disappeared
and somehow hadn’t.

Over late afternoon espresso
I spoke from a nothing dark
for a portion richer than before.

And here I am, home
living well and full –
Only the inevitable waiting.