eye of a needle

i do not generally like bible verses 
but i enjoy the ones that 
talk shit about rich people. 
the camels come with gossip
about celebrities. a private jet
they watched turn into a heron. 
gold toilets & gold windows 
& gold tongues. sometimes 
at night i bead by lamp glow.
the eye of the needle seems
like a gone basement door. a place
we could never go. lose your shoulders.
lose your skin. go through with only
your hair. i haven't believed in heaven
for at least a decade but i am sure
there is no gold there. maybe 
flowers. maybe justice. maybe 
a fountain where you can go
& see the versions of yourself 
you have loved most. i feel like
a lunch tray. here are my chicken fingers
& here are my guts. here is the camel
standing & knowing he is a parable.
i feed him a peanut butter 
& jelly sandwich anyway. 
the thread always finds a way through.
selves i drag along like thread.
i think in the fountain i would see
a little boy-girl in a big t-shirt 
talking to a snake. i want to live
with the toads. i want to see 
their coins turn into jupiter beetles 
in their hands. the shadows my fingers
make as i work turn become crows.
they pluck gems from cracks
in the floorboards. fly back 
& forth through every eye they please. 
the camels say,
"you know we all have the potential 
to get that hungry?"