Pro forma

It was an ordinary assassination,
A letting of blood only,
The high drama of philosophy
Utterly lacking

The way a believer
Will kill another, or an infidel,
While complaining of a shortage
Of votive candles.

Still, the sky opened as usual,
The souls of the dead collected
At the bottleneck of dogma,
The tedium of paradise

Only now becoming clear:
Muslims to the left,
Jews to the right,
Christians take a number

No waiting for atheists,
The difference between Heaven and Hell
Consisting of a single syllable,
A matter of interpretation

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