In this Scorsese/Michelangelo pieta— Mother Mary or Mary Magdalene—
enfolds the lolling body. The movie flickered over Harrison Burn’s studio
from a small box TV. Burns, dying slowly himself of chronic illness, stood
before his easel daubing oils over canvas and taking snapshots of the video.
Mixed-media squares quilt surfaces. Mary’s cry shatters all pretention.

Which Mary doesn’t matter.
Jesus’ favorites. Both of them.
She: who welcomed angelic
touch and birth pangs, shared
blood and pap, pondered Jesus’
growing authority—pushed
him to first use divine power
at Cana. Or She: despised
fallen woman—forgiven
for “six husbands ‘—then,
as the favored disciple—
running to discover Christ’s
resurrected body, rallying
his frightened followers.
And after Pentecost, sailing
with Christ’s presence to France.