CHRISTMAS. JOSEPH AND MARY.

i. Joseph.

I work around her. She is a knot in the timber,

her anger is rough bark.


I saw her walking in the hills,

she and her cousin intimate as mothers.

Now she says she’s pregnant by ‘the spirit’.


My friends mock me: And rams give milk, they chant.

I ransack my mind for her lover,

search my dreams for the comfort of angels.


She promises after it’s born that we’ll be lovers.

But her eyes darken my days.

I will grow old waiting, the knot still proud.