I Was Called Mary
by Hannah Wagner
I ate a Madonna Lily
I heard it grows better in the dark
I’d hoped its white light would filter through my blood
Cast out the impure
I was called Mary once too
Not the blessed - not the mother - certainly not the virgin
But Mary the friend Mary the follower Mary the misunderstood
It got harder to hide my sprouting
A paper cut resulting in spilled petals on the desk
I started to become self-conscious of these growing buds
When I laughed bits of pollen spewed out
I could not hide my transformation much longer
My skin began to soften like crushed velvet
I did not possess the thorn’s prick nor did I care to
Growing up is like building a house
I’m quite proud of where I’m standing
But I don’t want to give tours of the plumbing
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