Martyr Magdalene

her face has never been so tired.

alley-cat, catcall

in her foxglove foxhole

marigold: Magdalene martyred

by merry men,

errant men

across borderlines,

(for now, she knows just shopping lines)

they might have loved her once, when she

was young and didn’t need





            (she always thinks of antichrist

            or maybe antipasti, put it on the list)

staring blankly back from mirrored wall

(you need me woman lest you

lest you fall)

Shop-Rite, paperwhite

never catch her under streetlights

the shadows never did her any favours anyhow –

a woman’s got to suit herself

and anyway, she’s tired now.