Seven Songs for Mary

I used to have to bear
a fetid woman [whom
none liked] – a brewer
of sour & dark spites –
a broth-stirrer of salty
love [force-fed as spit
& pummelled recalls]/

I hear of her breakfast
men who stayed – it is
another common trait
[spices added to life’s
servitude – see her list
of forgotten escapees]
How long is it – Mary?

Mary Magdalene once
lived on Galilee’s shore
& is named more often
than any other follower
[but that doesn’t mean
she was real]/ I shall jig
on freshly-filled graves/

I’ll dance before stones
rolled tight until my feet
cannot recall reasoning
or rights to roam/ Pope
Gregory called her out –
seven demons proof – I
saw seven on her bed/

To her bed – I was there
once before daybreak –
she rode atop [her arse
white – pitted – split but
full moon bright] & who
was ridden? Some man
whom I didn’t yet know

A blind lover of la lune?
Now turn on your heels
& rule through your old
life [entered as drawing
downs in withdrawals]/
Seven is writ symbolic –
a small sacred number

Mary – my cipher/ Shall
we let her dogs eat our
easily crucified bodies?
She lay volant tears on
my left shoulder & then
my soft request – Don’t
touch me – John 20:11