Christus Victor

My mother is irrepressible thoughts of death Barbie. 

She cracks the window of her dream car, 

lights a Marlboro Menthol and we return to defining 

Heaven, the afterlife, eternal life, the greatest hits. 

“It’s okay to die” alone, in poverty, having not left anything more than a meager life insurance inheritance.

Yet, living with that comfort is harder than dying in sin. 

It’s easy to die in sin. Smiling with resignation as we pull

into the Wendy’s drive thru, fumbling to find space for a large Diet Coke in the console, our smiles widening – 

ashes and embers ripped apart by the vacuum of I-55.