On encountering the pearly gates

 

On encountering the pearly gates

Goodbye is unexpected.
If the gatekeeper isn’t St Peter it must be her,
my first mother.

She smiles a weird smile which I think
means welcome.

Goodbye I say, smiling back and she grabs hold
of the gates and lifts them up,
then lifts them higher.

I remember my birth certificate with crane driver
inked under Mother’s Occupation.

I duck under and we stand there
not knowing what should happen next
and wondering if we’ll end up

doing whatever it is together.