retrieved from Mexico on his honeymoon by my Jewish pianist friend—just married
to a Catholic—your offbeat grace manifests life following art. Uplifted arms implore
and meld into the crucified body. Mary’s grief upthrusts feminine imploring onto
the cross. What bend of branch? What twist of knife re-storied this fruit wood?
Re-imaged the old-rugged cliche?

Sleek touch of fingers
savor the sleek softness
of your limbs, folk angel.
Did the carver’s blade hew
away enough anguish to let
love, mother love, stand tall?
Undaunted by convention’s
brutality—even as the man
you loved died. Refusing
to save himself, birthing,
some say, a forgiveness
DNA into you, us
and the world. Hail Mary.