In the small school chapel
Martha stood in front
of the black wood crucifix
high on the wall
if she stood on tiptoe
she could just about
touch the plaster paris
Crucified's
nailed feet
the chapel was empty
no sound
smell of incense
and old bricks
and aged bodies
of old nuns who once
fumed here
Martha stood on tiptoe
and kissed the Crucified's
nailed feet with her lips
soft lips on paster feet
Jesus I want
to be your bride
want to hold
you close
want to
have you near
let your ears hear
she whispered
she went back
on her feet
watched the Crucified
His arms outstretched
His nailed hands
like claws
His eyes looking skywards
not particularly hairy
like her father was
not under the arms
or chest
she mused
what are you doing here
Martha Maguire?
A nun said
creeping up
behind her
having slid in
like a shadow
from the cloister
Martha turned around
talking to the Crucified
Martha said
eyeing the tubby nun
why are you not
in class?
The nun said
Martha turned back
to gaze at the Crucified
wanted to talk to Him
she said
not during class-time
the nun said
now get
on to your class
and don't be here
during school time
understand me?
Martha gazed
at the Crucified's eyes
heavenward gazing
His hands nailed cruelly
if I could
Martha said
I'd unnail Him
take Him
in my arms
and hug Him
to being better
the nun frowned
gazed at the back
and backside
of the Maguire girl
will you get yourself
off to class Maguire
I won't tell you again
or you'll being having
a ruler across
your palms once more
Martha sighed
she thought she saw
the Crucified eye her
but couldn't be sure.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem