~ Delta Poetry Review ~

The Evangelist

— for Elvis Presley, performing “Unchained Melody” (1977) two months before his death

When he was a boy in Tupelo he’d go outside
if the moon was full—just a lonely white disc
in the sky—and he’d sing to his twin brother
who had died at birth. His mama told him to do that,
and so he did.

And he kept trying, his whole life, to do all the right things,
to make everybody happy—even God—
and maybe he did that too.

Because it’s hard not to imagine that God doesn’t weep
every time you hear him sing, even though he’s out of breath
and gleaming sweat, and someone has to hold his microphone
for him. There’s just something holy in his voice.

It’s the only way to say it.

                                             Or it’s something lonely.
A river widening and widening until it becomes the sea.
Or maybe it’s something sweet: something that says
to wait for him, because he’s finally coming home.