Her To Be Heavenly Here

And when I think of the words on
drunken some saturday night
Hail, Mary, full of grace
its solemn melody with me

in my childhood knees, the
subject & blue sky—the Lord
is with thee—over still water,
‘neath the brown leaves of my

blessed art thou spring yet so
much like a song amongst women,
and blessed is the night’s stare black
& bruised purple of thy womb, Jesus—

I want Her, away from history
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
not religion or golden spire
pray for us sinners as toward

over & over, with beads now
and at the hour of our death
away from when I wanted here to be
heavenly Her, dressed in blue—Amen.