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

            anti-aging

            antioxidant

            antiseptic

            anti-everything,

            (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.