Requiem for a slut

Slick little Jenny sits on Mary Magdelene’s throne

much to the consternation of the white haired pastor

Her panties made of daggers

Honey pouring from her mouth

Gallons of it

Tons

It spills down the aisles of the church

No one can worship at her feet

They swim for higher up the leg

She hangs from the branches of trees

Her crucifix a twist of nature

Arms looped over branches

Never fearing night or cold

Lofty vibrations aiming heavenward

slow motion bus crashes orchestrate near her

no shrapnel can penetrate her hallowed ground

Slick Jenny is dismissed with cries of slut fool harlot

But they can’t look away from the miracle

Of undulations from the dead

Hypnotic is her rent flesh

Parted red seas

In one hand the apple the other the pomegranate

Her crown an IUD swarmed by misguided bees

burned at the stake

thrown in the pit suffocated at birth

sold raped laughed at forgotten

Slick little Jenny won’t go away

Reappears flooding red honey

Waiting for her wings to break through her broken back

For the cloak her mother did not sew

For the armor her father did not pass down

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