Mary’s Tale

In conversation with the pregnant virgin,

after the angel had got her with child,

he feathered a strand of hair from her face

and asked what she wanted of life, besides him.

She lifted her head from his eagle breast

and kissed his big bearded mouth,

then slid one hand behind him and wrenched

a plume from his glorious tail. His eyes watered.

You silly bustard, she said, sporting,

you’re a game bird to think in such terms.

What I want is to write about Love, and see

whether this tale flies: Immaculate Conception.