SALVE REGINA
The annunciation
Hail holy queen,
mother of mercy.
Hail, our life,
our sweetness
and our hope!
To you do we cry,
poor banished children of Eve
I let his wandering hands
wander a bit.
It felt like feathers
quickening beneath my skin.
I knew he’d come for you,
I didn’t care,
I liked those finger-feather flutters.
The dander whorls marking a bit of territory.
He wasn’t mine,
he was yours.
Knocking at the back door,
he had hoped to find you in.
Instead he found me out,
quickly enough,
the servant of the house.
You, so chaste,
hastening from the shuk,
taking on my chores,
while I took on the holy ghost.
Later, caught shaking out
my dusty underwear, you cry,
ask me how an angel could
mistake me for a holy queen.
Darling, I laugh, he’ll be back
and this time he’ll curb his
roving eye, dip his quill in holy oil
to keep it in it’s place.
She blushes
but I know her well.
She has no friends
and does not care for me.
In future years,
asked about events, I say
he came to my back door first, you know.
It was me that let love in
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