There’s a photo of me at about four
Years old. I have a towel on my head
Sitting in front of the Christmas tree, the glor-
ious Christ Child (my Ernie doll) in a bedspread
In my arms. I essayed the role of Mary
With great commitment. In many ways I feel
That she has been near–to imperceptibly carry
Me through some tough shit and bring to heel
Fiery serpents of my own design. One time
I saw her, and when I tried to say thank you
For holding me like an infant, it was like a chime
Quivered, she smiled, turned, and vanished into blue.
I want to follow what I knew by the tree–
To answer an angel voice with let it be.
