My name is Mary Magdalene
I hang out in Gethsemane Gardens and Googies
and twisted greaser biker bars on the lower East Side.
I pluck my eyebrows into crescent moons,
prune my pubis into a shooting star,
I give blowjobs to Jesus Christ, the king of Zanzibar
and the entire Ethiopian army.
My hair is matted with twilight and clockhands,
forget-me-nots and columbines -- memories of innocence --
blackened and knotted
into the devil's goatee.
Lucifer and Beelzebub,
Charles Manson and Mao Tse-Tung
fought over me. Let me spread my legs
and show you my seven clit piercings,
each adorned with a gold ring
for each of the seven demons Christ cast out of me;
the demon of sour grapes, the demon of guilt trips,
the demons of lying lips, false tits, pettiness, envy and greed.
My name is Mary Magdalene and I want you to know
you get what you see,
If you see a gun as God you will be shot,
If you see a whip as God you will be beaten,
If you see fire as God you will be burned,
If you see money as God you will be spent,
If you see a stiff cock as God you will get fucked.
My favorite trick, Jesus, said
if you see the truth as God, it will set you free.
My name is Mary Magdalene.
My tongue is a river that washes the sins from the flesh --
only love can conquer death.
My name is Mary Magdalene,
I hang out in Gethsamene Gardens and Googies
and twisted greaser biker bars on the lower East Side.