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
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.