Rushing tide at the juncture of placental waters,
rocking to sleep in the womb of the night, moon's
sweet cradle and her son's starlight tongue, lips
like salt water and pure springs, tangy sweet, at
my mouth, spearing my sex, bringing new ways to
curse God while also screaming His name in ecstasy.
The waves come crashing, pinnacling with foam, and
mermaids become but lost souls on the shores, so
open your depths to me, sweet Stella Maris, and I
will dive for pearls in your bosom, Madre Maria.
YOU ARE READING
The Diary of Mary Magdalene: Poems from Christ's Wife
PoetryMary Magdalene writes on her love for Christ. And follows him to Hell. And back again. (A collection of poems, prayers, and meditations from the year I walked with the Lord.)
