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Darling, she whispered,
turning to offer her nakedness,
demand my attention. I'll make it worth
your while if you heal these sores.
I caressed the curve of her hips,
smiled with indulgence.
Shop talk again. If only Magda
could stop bringing work to bed.
Judas said she was a harlot.
I just wished she would go on
anointing my thighs with grease
from her unwashed hair.
At least, she never made me pay.
In time, my manhood became overrun
by blisters, uncured even by baptism -
result of my ability to walk on water.
Once she mentioned love. I walked
away
smashing all the bird cages, fruit stands,
the wicker chairs of temple vendors.
Afterwards it was Judas who made amends.
He created miracle out of tantrum
by sermonizing to shocked sellers
against bartering in the House of God.
How he treated me like bronze idol.
And so patient! Up to the last moment,
he held me while I railed against women,
and cried. How he cried as he refused
the coupling of our blistered lips.
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