Nativity

I was Mary once.

Somebody big as a beginning

Gave me trouble

I was too young to carry, so I ran

Off with a man who claimed

Not to care. Each year,

Come trouble’s birthday,

I think of every gift people get

They don’t use. Oh, and I

Pray. Lord, let even me

And what the saints say is sin within

My blood, which certainly shall see

Death—see to it I mean—

Let that sting

Last and be transfigured.