When Mary Lost Jesus

by Abigail Eckstine

In her eyes is ecstasy – the kind of Saint Teresa Jesus
Maybe she’s been getting high or maybe she just hasn’t had enough to eat today
Or maybe it’s just how dark this soulnight is
Between global warming and the possible tornado watch
We keep sitting out on the porch
Crossing the lines between masturbating and religous ecstasy
Mamma Mary is a whore –
Is a whorehouse –
A penitentiary for all my bad girl problems
Mary sits beside me, dangling her legs through the fire escape and telling me
About the time she was pregnant
She says if god exists thank him
Thank him that I never carried that child
Lord knows I would never be able to give him a good life
Lord knows I’m too young for that kind of shit
I tell her I know what she means
That I’ve wanted a kid since I was a kid with too big red boots for rainy days
But lord knows
I have a wheelhouse of problems
A brain that just won’t keep quiet
A mouth that just won’t voice my needs
I’ve got a child of a brain and I paddle it daily
What would I do with a child tugging at my legs?
Lord just knows
I would be a fucking awful mother these days.