Mary Magdalene, by Saeed Jones

[schmevil]

Down the hill, through the alley,
left then right, my love. Pass the crying

women in shrouds. Let your friends have
their gospels. Leave Judas to his knots.

Tonight, we will make our heaven,
though the stars have turned their backs on us,

though the air is crowded with howling.
I have room for all of your questions.

A bottle of wine, plate of dry bread
and me on the table or under it,

against the night or under it.
Mourning can wait until sunrise.



via breathe_poetry