The Eyes of God

after Felix Pollak

Denton Loving


Nightly, he dreams of flying in a car over a city of gabled roofs.

Obviously, you’re in need of money, says his broker.

Such a show off, says his ex-wife. Can’t you dream about regular cars like a normal person?

His mechanic thinks only of practical matters. He wants to know if the brakes work in the air, and how’s the power steering?

Your head’s always in the clouds, says his boss.

Clearly, your life is out of control, says his older sister.

His therapist says it’s a good sign, that he will rise above his current troubles.

But not even the therapist asks him where he flies each night and who he’s with. So the dreamer never reveals the car is one of his dad’s old convertibles and that his dad, dead now more than a year, is the driver. He doesn’t describe the joy they both feel sailing through the air over this endless city. He doesn’t tell how beautiful and intricate the roofs are, that the gables are layered in aged copper, their patina a sign of something old and lasting, their elaborate designs usually reserved only for the eyes of God.

Denton Loving is the author of the poetry collection Crimes Against Birds (Main Street Rag) and editor of Seeking Its Own Level: an anthology of writings about water (MotesBooks). His writing has recently appeared in Iron Horse Literary Review, The Tishman Review, and The Threepenny Review.

Follow him @DentonLoving.