Here in Limbo, ducking down,

avoiding the gaze of God and the Devil,

chums and old pals, compliments

spoken freely at the matter of my passing,

caught between the unbeliever

and the quite sure the place exists,

they are not sure what to do with my soul,

let it burn in Heaven or let it grow cold

in Hell; neither wanting, neither demanding,

they flicked a coin in the air,

there in the darkness they put me,

till the coin stops landing on its side,

in Limbo.

Ian D. Hall 2018