There's the anointment of feet harsh from the road,
a cup of blood, flesh from Martha's bread, Sacrament
of cock crowing twice, denial, betrayal at the Sicario's
dagger, a kiss that spells out Hell, lips like poison wine.
And so Yeshua declares the Apostles twelve, says they
will flee that first drum beat, or cut off ears, and when
maidservants ask Peter: is he your Master? Simon will
cry and cry and cry. Maundy Thursday, feast of fools,
the leavened challah we press to our teeth tastes like
a promise, this vintage we drench our mouths in seems
to hold the mystery of the universes in a single wood cup.
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.)
