Mary, Did You Know? by Marissa Glover

Mary, Did You Know?

Yes, she knew,
as all moms know—
the instant letdown
of milk at his cry,
the look in brown eyes
that says he feels pain,
his smell after a long day
chiseling and stacking
stones, catching barbels
or musht.

She knew all
that other stuff too.
An angel told her,
remember?
Appeared to her,
said she’d soon be pregnant,
and Joseph was not
the father.
The prophets warned
what would happen next.

I’m more curious
about what Mary didn’t know,
what no mom knows,
what’s impossible
to know.
Like how quickly
his feet would be the size
of hammers, how soon
he’d choose his own path.

Or how much
it would hurt
to watch him
suffer, how hard
it would be
to feel the blood
urge for revenge
and take none.

*

Marissa Glover teaches and writes in Florida, where she serves as co-editor of Orange Blossom Review and a senior editor at The Lascaux Review. Her poetry has been published in Rattle, Rust + Moth, SWWIM Every Day, and other journals. Marissa’s first full-length poetry collection, Let Go of the Hands You Hold, was released by Mercer University Press in 2021 and her second collection, Box Office Gospel, will be published by Mercer in 2023.

two poems by john compton

mary

your mouth is my grandmother’s.
now she speaks with her dead voice
from your vocal cords.

the sharp vowels try to pin my conscience—
strong consonants devalue my power;
the words themselves leak resin.

wife & children escape her teeth
trying to catch me. she cannot understand
i don’t want either,

that i am not gay because i choose to be
but simply: i am.
her pyramid scheme of love

is ancient.
she drives to me with prayer.
i turn her away with heat.

*

rowland

if my father had not sewn his palms
to my mother’s womb,
i would have never known his existence.

his voice like vinyl, thick & scratched:
barely audible through the skin—
if he had known my ears worked

maybe his voice would have been louder
& he wouldn’t have been afraid to say
i love you.

*

john compton (b. 1987) is gay poet who lives in kentucky. he lives in a tiny town, with his husband josh and their 3 dogs and 2 cats. he has published 2 books and 5 chapbooks published and forthcoming: trainride elsewhere (august 2016) from Pressed Wafer/tba; stranger in the attic of cloud (tba) from dead man’s press ink; that moan like a saxophone (december 2016) from kindle; ampersand (march 2018) from Plan B Press; a child growing wild inside the mothering womb (june 2020) from ghost city press; i saw god cooking children / paint their bones (oct 2020) from blood pudding press; to wash all the pretty things off my skin (sept 2021) from ethel zine & micro-press. he has been published in numerous magazines and anthologies. he has 2 pushcart nominations.