Always Messing with them Boys
Jessica Helen Lopez          BACK      NEXT

The Acquiescence of Magdalena and the Rise of Jesus

I wonder if this
is a temporary resurrection
telltale of the leftover
warmed over rosary beads
a forgotten Gnostic priest

he is last night’s lover
the semen encrusted cold thighs
against the sinless white sheets
of a carpenter’s bed

he is a renaissance risen only
to be forgotten like the
fallen phallic temple that
once placed the promise
of redemption on the
tip of my tongue

The last blush of wine
I grow numb with
the blood of lamb
I have become
tipsy with religion

Romance me
iconoclastic statue
I kiss the cold marble
toes of man
contemplate idyll
hands folded in prayer
and the edifice of you

You
sweaty knees and stiff
starch of the collar
clean sweet priests powdered
in their hallowed halls
making like saints
like gods
like men

and me just a woman
a dark robed nun in the
stomach of monastery and
its tongue tied halls

Bathe me
isolate me
be my father
eclipse my small island
with your communion
wafer moon
blind me with bliss
ignorance like so many
cheap prints of
motel bibles
middle-of-the-night
out of town saviors

The whores of Babel
create you God
I will take your stones
fold them into my
robes of womanly skin
for now

This is the epicenter
of my feebleness

I wonder at my drunkenness
my fall to foolishness

I am ripe for religion
I am whore and mother
you have risen
I let you call me sinner
and you have carved
your name into my flesh
laid our your instruments
of passion and wood
built upon woman

The bonds and fired
bricks of religion
the crucifixion of wife
the acquiescence of me

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