| Alison Daniel |
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| Jesus Wants Her Bad She drinks another thick season, breaking the ragged bread into uneven halves as she dreams the risen dream of Mary Magdelene kissing the lips of Christ. Her crimson ruby red lips drink deeply his mouth. No disciple wants this. They call her a slut, a whore, a trap. And the bare knuckled moon whispers explicitly, dripping the bloodied heretics song of oiling His feet with the scent of perfumed hair. Jesus wants her bad and Jesus jumps her bones. Each day she washes their body, in the river where the water is clean, where the stream is a privately profound polishing of fingernails into thin translucent stones, replicas that all good men have to throw. |
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