Mary, Mother of Christ: Tale of a Second Lover, by Blind Boy

The doctrine of Mary’s perpetual virginity omits the night we spent together. 

We made love in the sandy hills of Galilee, her hands calloused. 

Eyes holding pain, that’s why we were there. 

I took God’s lover as my own. 

In the hills, amongst the sheep. 

We forgot the horn of our shepherd.

“What is my son to me?” she questioned. 

“God, or at least, he will be” these words lines in the arid heat. 

“They’ll forget your name” humanity lays in my arms. 

“Your names will be white, your revolution too.” 

She cried out into the night.

Her nails left stigmata on my back. 

Hers was the only salvation. 

To see Blind Boy's earlier poems in The Eunuch, go here and here.