from my mother’s womb-
I arrive unblemished,
cherubic, innocent.
at birth, they are summoned-
virgin mother whore.
a dominant voice curses
its other with expectations-
marginalization, underestimation-
not a witch’s preordained prophesy:
a sexed fate.
virgin
on initiation to the sacraments,
holy is splashed on the soft spot
to re-born the infant from
sin-state to God-freedom.
she can be touched by Him,
but man’s Church denies her call
to orchestrate the ritual.
outside, the sun pulls pigment
to the surface.
marking it.
violating it in freckly bursts of failure.
she is not cleansed.
mother
marked, a sham, shamed,
she carries on,
calls himself before all.
not the One who made
man in his image,
but the one who wants supper at 5
and grumbles at interference or care.
obedience in the asylum,
mother to the lunatic.
he is given license,
born of woman, grown- he commands.
whore
maligned,
the Son chooses this company.
exploited, desired, compromised.
purposed,
he cleanses her demons,
knowing the etymological fork
toward endearment.
lighting caresses to His wounds,
in relief,
the last pulse beating at the Cross,
love for God, found in herself.
journey’s end-the sanskrit:
Kama Sutra.
virgin mother whore
the Lady walked the halls,
hands stained –
precursor to what befalls all women,
the assignation of virgin mother whore.
the notion that
one who is powerless
in law, in God, in man,
resurrects,
rises from the shambles,
to burn in the fire.
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