The Virgin I call Mother, and the Virgin you call Whore
I made love to God-
he broke through my skin
to bleed
inside his love.
Am I holy now,
like Mary
because I made love to God?
God
is a fickle man
behind his yellowing grin
but he likes it like all men do
so he sits it out
while I do all the work
(I bleed inside his love)
but its all worth it;
like Mary
I get to be holy now.
His kiss itches at my scalp
dry
from moisturizers
meant
to cleanse
my evil deeds-
I am wrong
but he still fucks me at midnight;
its all good though
we both get what we want out of this situation.
I bleed inside his love
and I can feel
his son
clutch
my womb
torn
tenderness
I don't bleed for nine months because of his love
lost
now that my belly grows.
I am holy now
but I still question abortion
(un-Mary-like, I know)
but Jesus did go on to marry a whore,
that whore
where I am first
to be seen in your eyes
I am holy for the thing growing inside of me
but not for myself.
How can I (your judgment purify)
when you scorn me
wicked girl you seek to burn me
all because I fucked your God at midnight
(I wonder what you would have done in my situation.)
I burn with God inside
of me growing
lesser;
my rape dies away
inside my virginity,
but poor girl that I am
(left alone!
How can you take a God to lamaze class?)
my belly aches with hunger
my clothes are thread bare
I give everything up
to be holy enough for you.
I bleed again
inside his love
and my son curls from between my legs
bloody
beaten
as he would be now
and at the hour of his death.
I feel my brunette hairline
reseed to gray
(the women in my family go grew early, I hope God knew that when he chose me.)
I twiddle my thumbs
dry
inside his love.
I made love to God
once.
I can't help it if I need to boast
this son
of God
costs money
against my strong-willed hands.
Virgin
no more
I bleed
inside love nightly.
I'm just that pimp who once made love to God.
I bleed for food.
I bleed for home.
I bleed for seed
and green.
I bleed for greed.
I bleed for the freed
-om-
that my love making has brought me.
I made love to God
to make a messiah;
my son
with his crooked curls,
his wayward grin
gaining
on the gusto
of the gutter that we live in.
He is (my son)
something of an enigma
but I like his wife;
Mary
like
me;
she'll bleed
I think
like me
as well.
I made love to God
to bleed
and breed
my son
in the name of his creed
my seed
retrieved
by cross
and nails.
My ancient son
bled
for god
and my modern son
bleeds
for the tv's.
I screamed for my son at his birth;
I'll be damned if I don't scream for him at his death.
I think though,
that I will never be holy enough for you.
My virginity begot birth
my sex begot love
my love begot messiah
messiah begot sin
sin begot my virginity.
I made love to God-
he broke through my skin
to bleed
inside his love.
Am I holy now,
like Mary
because I made love to God?
Am I a good mother for what I saved?
Am I better mother for what I watched die?
am I indifferent because I knew it to be true?
After all of this
am I holy enough for you.