Page 10 - Vol. VI #3

God Does His own Laundry
Because heaven has no Sears, no Tide— for God’s sake—no running water,
His garments must be washed by hand, a tricky venture at first, one doctor
of the church has observed in his magnum opus
De Sarto Dei, because His hands
have neither dimension nor substance, yet must scrub with such unmeasured force
to sunder any cloth. Thus, He
wears fabric made from strands of nothing
spun in the celestial loom. Seamless
as Himself, this floor-length robe, when dipped into the sea of glass around
the throne in the sight of the twelve elders,
the seven churches, and hosts of heaven
who ever adore Him, makes no ripple, and, only loading Himself with one
such piece of clothing, He must complete the task nude. To those who dare
watch, it appears as though He approaches
the shore, loosens His cincture, and vanishes, reappearing in freshly wrung apparel.
And while the magisterium does not assent, the same doctor attests that in one
such moment, one third of heaven fell. 1
Joshua Jones