Some people say that every poem should have
God in it somewhere. But of course Wallace Stevens
Wasn’t one of those. We live, he said, “in a world
Without heaven to follow.” Shall we agree
That we taste heaven only once, when we see
Her at fifteen walking among falling leaves?
It’s possible. And yet as Stevens lay dying
He invited the priest in. There, I’ve said it.
The priest is not an argument, only an instance.
But our gusty emotions say to me that we have
Tasted heaven many times: these delicacies
Are left over from some larger party.