Marian
by Ari Gordon
Down the road to share with you,
the things forgotten by the priest.
Not least the color of the robe
or how to pray without words.
Not rolling blue hills but
desolate sounds and beads of white,
round her neck (they tied her up),
and placed her at the yoke of books.
She thought to herself:
“Isn’t there a machine for this?”
And he will laugh and laugh and laugh
And say: “Silly woman,”
“You already know the answer to that.”