Virgin Mary Takes A Ride
He wants to lift the corner
of her skirt, slowly of course,
so he does not frighten her.
Says he is an artist, a sculptor of sorts
if he could just feel the back of her knee,
inside of thigh, perspective could be gained.
A chisel to clear the way. Beauty my girl,
is immortal but Mary doesn't buy.
She crosses her legs, desires simple things;
wind on her face, to sit in a car
without any lines. She desires a world
without gods to call her name,
four wheels, an open road,
some old fool to teach
her how to drive.
© T.E. Ballard 2002
More Poetry:
Still
Letter to Peter
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Bio: You may find more of Teresa's work in IBPC January 2002; The Butcher's Daughter, The Melic Review, Pierian Springs, The Poet's Canvas, Ella, Gumball Poetry, The Green Tricycle, Mentress Moon, The Writer's Hood and in several other ezines and print journals. She is currently at work on her first book of poetry which is due out the first of next year. |
