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Sunlight pouring across your skin, your shadow

                                                            flat on the wall.

        The dawn was breaking the bones of your heart like twigs.

You had not expected this,

               the bedroom gone white, the astronomical light

                                               pummeling you in a stream of fists.

    You raised your hand to your face as if

               to hide it, the pink fingers gone gold as the light

streamed straight to the bone,

    as if you were the small room closed in glass

                                         with every speck of dust illuminated.

    The light is no mystery,

the mystery is that there is something to keep the light

                                                           from passing through.

(Richard Siken)

Heaven is the visible world.